A White Mask
by Csillan.Rose
Summary: COMPLETE! What would have happened if Raoul had never existed? A retelling of The Phantom of the Opera...without Raoul. Note: this isn't a 'no plot' telling. There are many problems to overcome. Please read. EC
1. Rehearsals for Hannibal

A White Mask...

(Nothing in this story belongs to me...it all belongs to Gaston Leroux)

(One warning first- My story is kind of a mixture of events and names from both the musical and the book. I'm using the names Andre and Firmin, just because it comes to me easier. I hope this doesn't confuse anyone...)

What would have happened if Raoul was never in the story? ...

**Chapter One: Rehearsals for Hannibal**

Meg Giry checked to make sure her mother wasn't looking, and then chanced a glance at her best friend, Christine Daae. The ballet dancers were working on their stretches before going into rehearsals for the newest Opera that they were putting on, Hannibal.

"Christine!" Meg whispered excitedly, "Did you hear the latest rumor about-"

"Meg Giry!" A ringing voice cried across the stage, "Just what do you think you are doing? Keep in line, no talking!"

Madame Giry was the ballet instructor, and it was not a good idea to anger her.

"Yes'm." Meg bent back down with an exaggerated sigh.

Little Jammes edged carefully towards Meg as Madame Giry looked away. "Was it about the-"

Madame Giry's staff hit the floor with a loud, carrying bang.

Little Jammes gulped and swallowed what she had been about to say.

The moment Meg saw her mother concentrating on someone else again, she murmured hurriedly, "I'll tell you later!"

Little Jammes nodded enthusiastically, and Christine sighed. No doubt it was another ridiculous rumor about the "Opera Ghost," the mysterious 'Phantom' that haunted the opera house.

To Christine, it was all a made-up tale that one of the older ballet girls made up to frighten the younger ones. Everything that went wrong was blamed on this "Phantom," and the ballet girls even went so far as to tell them that the managers of the opera house, M. Debienne and M. Poligny,gave the Opera Ghost a salary! Box Five was apparently 'reserved' for him, just because no one sat in it. This, Christine reasoned, was _actually _probably because it was unsafe.

The ballet girls finished their stretches, and they began the rehearsal.

Christine tried to focus on her dancing, but her mind kept wondering. Several times she was reprimanded by Madame Giry, but it was still a struggle to focus on the dance steps.

There was a new rumor circulating that the managers were retiring, and two new managers would be taking their places. One-Two-Step. This, of course, was the Opera Ghost's fault. One-Two-Three-Step, Two-Three-Step.

Too late, Christine caught her mistake, and was rewarded by another shout from Madame Giry.

"Christine! Try to focus!" Meg whispered quickly as her steps brought herself toward her friend. "Mother is getting impatient, and our last rehearsal is tomorrow!"

"I know." Christine sighed as she missteped once more. Ever since her father had died, she had been classified as a 'dreamer.' She preferred to think of other things instead of what was really happening.

It had been years since that horrible event, and yet every time she tried to live in a real life, the pain came back. She just couldn't focus, because every time that she did she thought about what her father would think of her now- a chorus girl.

Her father had had big hopes for his daughter. He had wanted her to be a prima donna- and, perhaps, if he had lived she would have been.

At long last, the rehearsal was over.

Meg quickly pulled her aside, gesturing for the other girls to join them.

"Guess what?! Did you hear?!" she whispered excitedly. Christine braced herself.

"Of course not! You always have new news for us... What is it this time?"

"The rumor about the new managers is true- I'm not really supposed to tell you, but if you don't tell then mother won't find out."

"It's true?!"

"Yes... M. Debienne and M. Poligny are quitting, because they are almost driven out of their minds by the Opera Ghost!"

"Really? Who are the new managers?"

"Ohh... I don't think I should say..."

"Meg!" Little Jammes persisted.

"Fine...but don't tell anyone it was me who told you. Their names are Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre. They're coming to the rehearsal tomorrow."

"Do they know about the ghost?" a small ballet girl asked in a hushed, low voice.

"Not yet..." Meg said excitedly.

Christine shook her head in amusement.

"Oh, Christine," Meg frowned at her friend, "I know you don't believe in the ghost, but I so wish you did! He _is _real, you know."

"He is." The ballet girls agreed.

"You know that Joseph Buquet saw him!" Little Jammes piped up.

"Buquet made it up to get attention." Christine smiled as the other girls stubbornly stuck to their story.

"You'll see, Christine... you'll see." Meg murmured.

"Meg Giry! What are you telling those girls?"

"Nothing mother!"  
The ballet girls jumped up and tried to look innocent as Madame Giry entered the room.

"You better hope that it was nothing. Come, I want you to work on your dancing in the second scene-"

"But mother! Rehearsals are over for the day!" Meg pouted.

"Not for you. Come."

Meg sighed dramatically and began walking after her mother. She paused and the door and turned back to Christine. "My mother believes in the Phantom!"

Then she was gone.

This, out of everything, was the one thing that Christine did not understand. Madame Giry did indeed believe in the Opera Ghost, and she was not a woman to take to rumors.

Christine pondered this as she made her way up to her dressing room. Maybe there was something to this Opera Ghost after all...

Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. An eerie music was drifting through the hall, so faint that she had to strain her ears to hear it.

Curious, Christine followed it all the way to the roof of the Opera House. Here it was louder, but she still could not define where it was coming from.

She smiled as she listened to the haunting music. Her father used to play the violin... What if this was a sign from him?

The chorus girl sat down with her back resting against the edge of the roof. She closed her eyes, letting the music fill her. Softly she began to hum along with the melody. The song was so sad! So sad, and so comforting...

Before she knew it, Christine had fallen asleep.

A dark figure crept out from behind a statue, his golden eyes gazing at her with pleasure. So...this pretty child enjoyed his music...

Careful not to wake her, the man gently covered her with his cape so that she would not get cold.

Then he was gone.

(A/N: This is my first Phan-fic, so please be kind! R&R, and constructive critisism is welcome!)


	2. Music in the Night

(A/N: Thank you so much, everyone! I can't believe I already have six reviews... I'm thrilled! I didn't expect it to get too many, so thank you so, so, so much everyone!!!!!

**dragon-miko:** Thanks, I'm glad that you like it! :)

**Mel: **Yes! No Raoul! The way the story _should_ have been written...lol!

**NorthAngel27: **Thanks for reading, I'm glad that you like it! Here is more, right now. Hopefully I'll update every day or every other day, but sometimes I just don't have time.

**draegon-fire: **Muahahahaha! No fop, no fop, no fop!!!

**littlecherub5:** Thank you! I'm glad that you liked the end of the chapter. Hopefully the Phantom will be in them more in the upcoming ones...

**MOey: **You're anxious? (points to PG rating) Feeling better now? And I mean to _keep_ that rating, mind you... lol. Don't worry, the chapter should get longer as I go on and get more into the story. First chapters are always a little bit hard.

Everyone: I'm really sorry if I stick more to the play than the book, but my guess is that most of the people on here know the play better. I will, however, be including a lot of the things that the play didn't include...Like what happened to the Persian man, Nadir? Oh well... Anyway, I'm sure all of you fans will realize after reading this that I've changed just a few of the events...Well, it _is_ going to be a bit different...)

**Chapter Two: Music in the Night**

Christine awoke the next morning to someone shaking her.

"Christine! Christine! Where you up here all night? You could have caught a cold!"

Christine's eyes fluttered open to see Meg kneeling beside her. She smiled. "I'm fine, Meg. Honestly, you worry too much." She stood, and something slid off of her onto the ground. Frowning, Christine bent down and picked up an elegant black cape.

"Where did this come from?" she asked softly, half to herself.

"Hmm?" Meg looked at the cape. "Oh, I don't know. It was with you when I came up here. Why? Isn't it yours?"

Christine shook her head slowly. "No..."

Meg's eyes clouded. "That's odd...Where did it come from, then? The sky? Did angels come down from heaven and put the cloak on you so that you didn't get cold?" she laughed.

Christine smiled. "It's probably just a person's stage prop. Someone must have come up here during the night to overlook the city, and saw me here."

"Not many people come up here during the night." The two girls made their way down the stairs, back into the building.

As they were walking, Christine suddenly remembered the beautiful music.

"Meg? Do you know anyone here that plays the violin?"

Meg frowned. "No, I don't. Why?"

"I just thought...never mind. It was probably just my imagination."

"Well, you do have a pretty wild one." The ballet girl agreed teasingly, "What are you saying you imagined?"

"Last night, when I was going to my room, I heard... Oh, Meg, just forget about it. It's ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous?" Meg stepped in front of Christine, blocking her path.

"It's just...well... last evening I thought that I heard violin music. It was so beautiful and haunting... But like I said, it was just in my mind. You know how much I miss father."

Meg, for some reason, was flushed with excitement, her blue eyes bright. "Christine! Is that why you were on the roof? You were listening to violin music?"

The chorus girl laughed. "It's really dumb of me, isn't it? But I could have sworn..."

"You _did_ hear music, Christine!" Meg cried dramatically, "_The Ghost_ plays the violin!"

Christine stopped dead in her tracks. "Meg! Oh, what's this, now? This 'ghost' of yours just happens to play the violin as well? When will you girls stop?!" She side-stepped her best friend, but Meg would not be dismissed.

"Really, he does! Other people have heard his music as well, and it was always in late evening or night! You're the only one I know that has actually gotten close to it, though." Suddenly Meg's eyes widened. "Christine! The cape!"

"What about it?"

"The Phantom! He always wears evening dress! I bet that it includes a cape...We'll have to ask Buquet!"

Christine laughed. "The lengths you girls go to! And don't you go telling Buquet a thing about it. He'll probably say yes to whatever you ask."

"He won't! He really _did_ see the Ghost once, you know. He didn't make it up."

Christine shook her head in amusement. "Okay, Meg, whatever you wish to believe."

"How much proof will you need before you'd believe in the Ghost?"  
The chorus girl appeared to think about this, then said mischievously, "I'd have to meet him."

Meg rolled her eyes. "You know that you can't _meet_ a ghost. But don't worry, I'll prove he's real yet! Can I borrow the cape?"

"No. I'm returning it to the costume room."

"Christine, how dare you throw away such perfect evidence? The ballet girls would _love_ to see it, and it would make everything so much more dramatic!"

"You're _too_ dramatic, Meg."

"Only when I want to be. I know that that's the Phantom's cape, though, and I want to show the others!"

The two girls passed the costume closet, and Meg looked at her friend curiously. "I thought you were going to put it in there."

"Not anymore. You'd probably steal it and use it as 'proof.' I'm going to put it in my room for now, and give it back when someone asks for it."

The two walked in silence for a few minutes, and they finally reached Christine's room.

"I'll see you at practice." Meg told her happily, and then bounced off back down the hall.

Christine sighed, knowing that the story of her hearing the music and discovering the cape would be all over the Opera House in no time.

Gently, she folded up the cloak and set it on her bed. Then she slipped into her costume for rehearsals and left the room, locking the door behind her.

As she made her way to the stage, she thought about the music she had heard the night before. It had been so sad...so lonely. For a moment Christine wondered if there really _was_ a Phantom. Surely if there was, that was what the music he played would sound like...

Christine silently scolded herself for thinking such useless thoughts. Of course there wasn't a Phantom! It was all hokum that the girl's had made up...wasn't it?

Suddenly Christine stopped dead in her tracks, staring off to her left in the shadows. She could have sworn that a moment before she had seen a pair of golden eyes, watching her...

The chorus girl shivered and moved on, a little more quickly this time. Her imagination was acting up a bit too much for her liking, lately.

xxxxx

None of the ballet girls could concentrate during the rehearsal. They kept casting curious glances at Christine, who pretended not to notice. She knew that as soon as the practice was over, the girls would be all over her.

About half-way through, four men appeared on the side of the stage. Two Christine recognized. They were the managers, Debienne and Poligny, but the other two she couldn't identify. Catching Meg's wink, she guessed that they were the two new managers.

Carlotta, their 'diva,' was just beginning to sing one of her many lines in the opera"Hannibal" when she noticed them. She smiled broadly and began to sing more elaborately, (Therefore worse), than she usually did.

Christine winced and tried to tone her out. The new managers, however, applauded wildly when she was finished. Carlotta beamed.

Behind her, Christine could hear Meg making gagging noises and Little Jammes and a few other girls giggling. La Sorelli scolded them, and they giggled all the harder.

"Bravo!" One of the new men shouted enthusiastically, "Well done! You will stun the audience once more with your amazing voice, but I will remain your biggest fan."

The gagging noises from behind her got louder.

"My Prima Donna, would you grace us with another song?" the man begged, "I believe you have an excellent aria in act three?"

"I would love to, if my director approves..." Carlotta glanced at Mr. Reyer, the director of the play, who nodded grudgingly.

"Very well. Will two bars suffice?" he asked, turning to the piano.

Carlotta nodded smugly, then started her singing when he finished the introduction.

"Think of me-

Think of me fondly

When we've said

Goodbye!

Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me

You'll try!  
When you find

That once again you long

To take your heart back-"

Carlotta cut off with a gasp as one of the backdrops fell from above, nearly hitting her.

She just stood in shock for a moment, and then pretended to swoon. At the last instant, Piangi, the lead tenor, rushed up and caught her in his arms, fanning her.

"It was the Phantom!" One of the ballet girls cried excitedly. "The Phantom did this!"  
"Yes, it was the Opera Ghost!"

"What ghost is this?" the other new manager demanded. Debienne and Poligny were now looking a shade paler than normal.

"It was nothing." Debienne assured him. "Just the chief of the flies, Buquet. I'm sure there was just an accident..."

The two retiring managers led the two new ones away as the ballet girls twittered on.

"Christine! Is it true? Did the Phantom actually give you his cape?"

Christine sighed. She had been expecting this. "What nonsense is Meg telling you now? Of course not, it was a stage prop!"

"It was _not_, Christine Daae, and you know it!"

"Girls, girls, hush!" Madame Giry interrupted. "Meg, what have you been telling these girls about the Phantom? Don't spread rumors, child!"

"I'm not, really! He gave his cape to Christine, because she listened to his music last night and fell asleep and-"

"Meg!" Christine hissed, lightly trodding on her friend's toe.

Madame Giry gave Christine an odd look, before going off to make sure that Carlotta was okay.

Quite frankly, Christine thought, the diva was over exaggerating the event. She was now shouting something about quitting.

The two new managers had returned by this time, and the one who had prompted her to sing for him was distraught. "My good lady, you cannot quit! It's the eve of the show, and there is a full house!"

"I'f had enouf' of dees...dees...accidents!" she yelled in her thick Italian/Spanish accent.

"Accidents do happen, my lady, but that is no reason to-"

"Si! Accidents _do_ happen! That 'tis why I am quitting!"

With that, Carlotta whirled around and strode off of the stage.

The new manager moaned, turning to his college. "We're ruined, Firmin, ruined! A full house, and we'll have to return all of the money!"

"It is, indeed, a horrible loss, my friend. Isn't there any back up for the part?"

"No, there is not!" M. Reyer cried unhappily, "The production is new! There was no time to train an understudy."

"Well, you will find one before tomorrow." Firmin demanded. "We are _not_ canceling. Surely at least one of the chorus girls knows the words and can sing decently! Find out which, and we'll use her until our Prima Donna gets back."

With that, the two new managers swept off of the stage.

"We're ruined!" M. Reyer said hopelessly, wringing his hands.

"Christine! You know the words...you can sing it!" Meg said excitedly.

Christine laughed, shaking her head. "No I can't, Meg. My voice has no training. And besides, I gave up all hopes of singing solo when my father died."

"But why? Christine, you have such a pretty voice-"

"Oh, Meg...I just can't. Please don't say anything?"

Meg frowned, but nodded.

xxxxx

That night, Christine had trouble getting to sleep. She tossed and turned, before sitting up and staring around her room.

It was the first time that she noticed something strange- the cloak had disappeared. She was sure that she had put it at the foot of her bed...

Carefully Christine stepped out from the warmth of her bed, lighting a candle. She searched all through her room, but there was no sign of it. Just when she had given up, she heard something-

A soft, tragic melody was floating through her window, presumably from above.

Without even thinking, Christine threw a robe on over her nightdress, and crept out of her room.

The candle cast flickering shadows through the hallways, and several times Christine thought that she had lost her way. Through it all, though, the haunting music guided her, until finally she stepped out onto the roof.

The melody was softer, now, almost a lullaby.

Christine sat where she had the evening before, listening quietly. A few moments later, the music stopped.

After a moment, she whispered, "It's so beautiful...please, keep playing?"

Obligingly, the violin started up again. This time when the tune was ended, Christine remembered something that her father had said.

"_When I die, child, I will send to you the Angel of Music..."_

"Angel?" Christine's whisper was barely audible, "Are you my Angel of Music?"

At first, only silence greeted her words. Then, after a pause...

"Yes, I am your...Angel." The words were soft, and the voice beautiful.

Christine shivered, frightened and excited at the same time. "Please keep playing, Angel. The music is so wonderful."

There was another hesitant pause. "Would you sing with it, child? I wish to hear your voice."

Christine bit her lip, then nodded. This time, when the music started up in a familiar tune, she sang the notes as well as she could. A few minutes later, the song ended.

Christine shivered as a cool breeze started up. "Angel?"

"I am here."

"Won't you keep playing? I won't be able to sleep tonight without your music."

In a few seconds, the music started up again. Christine closed her eyes, and lost herself to the beauty of the sound. In just a few short minutes, she was asleep.

The music, however, kept playing late into the night...

(A/N: I know, all of you want Erik to be in it more. I'm sorry that he's not in it too much in these first chapters, but either the next one or the one after is in his point of view.

I know that I completely messed up the whole beginning, I'm so sorry! I only realized that the rehearsals shouldn't come until later when I had already put up the first chapter. I know that Christine supposedly started training with Erik before this part. I'm really sorry, and I hope I haven't ruined it too much. Please R&R.)


	3. The New Elissa

(A/N: Okay, sorry everyone, but I was really wrong... Erik isn't really in this chapter too much either... only at the end. But don't worry, he'll be in it more soon enough!

For some reason, in the book the character that Carlotta left was Marguerite, but in the musical it was Elissa. I'm lazy, and it's hard to spell Marguerite, so I'm using Elissa. I hope you aren't upset by this. Thank you once again for the reviews!)

**Chapter Three: The New Elissa**

When Christine woke up the next morning, she was in her own bed. She sat up, frowning. Had she just imagined her angel?

As Christine pulled herself out of bed, she heard a rustling noise. She turned to find a packet of papers lying there, and pinned to them was a note written all in red ink.

The chorus girl leaned over and scanned the note, then smiled- It was signed 'Your Angel.'

Gently laying the note aside, Christine picked up the stack of papers. She gasped as she realized what they were...

She sat down on her bed, staring at Elissa's script. What did this mean? Was she supposed to try out for the part?  
Christine took a breath, and then stood. If her angel wished it, then she would try.

Quickly and quietly, the chorus girl made her way down to M. Reyer's office. He was already up; she could hear him playing the piano.

She knocked softly on the door, and then waited.

"Come in." the voice that spoke sounded slightly irritated.

Christine slipped inside, clutching the script. "I- I've come to try out for the part of Elissa."

M. Reyer blinked at her, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"T-the part. Unless, of course, you have already appointed someone-"Christine shifted nervously.

"Of course I've already appointed someone!"

Christine flushed, embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll just go then-"

"I appointed you, this morning! I see you've even gotten the script, though I don't know how. As far as I knew, Carlotta had taken it with her. Apparently not."

"Me?" Christine stared. "But I didn't even try out! How could-"

"I was told to appoint you by the new managers." Reyer's voice sounded slightly sour. "As if I cannot pick my own cast!"

"The new managers? But they don't even know me."

"That's what I said. But I follow my orders. Now, let us run through this song." M. Reyer pointed to a song in the first scene. "I assume that you know the words?"

Christine nodded. She had heard them over and over again, sung in Carlotta's terrible voice.

"Very well." Reyer played the introduction. "Sing along, then."

xxxxx

Andre looked over at his college, who was pacing the office.

"Was it some kind of joke?" Firmin demanded. "Who is this 'Phantom' they all speak of? I'm assuming it is a joke. Neither Debienne nor Poligny said anything about this. Of course, they probably think it's funny."

Andre shook his head, picking up the mysterious note they had received that morning. It was an odd note, to be sure. It was written all in blood red ink, and signed "Opera Ghost."

The new manager reread it, wondering.

_To the New Managers of my Opera House,_

_Greetings. I hope this letter finds you well. I would ask that you give the newly vacant part of 'Elissa' to the chorus girl, Christine Daae. I assure you that she has enough talent- much more than that toad of a woman, Carlotta. I expect her to be performing tonight, and as usual will be watching from Box Five, which you are not to sell. If you in any way do not obey these orders, you will regret it! _

_Just a reminder- My monthly salary of 20,000 francs is due soon. Do not forget. My best wishes to your upcoming performance._

_I remain your humble servant, _

_The Opera Ghost (O.G.)_

"And what's this about a salary?!" Firmin raged on, "And Box Five being reserved for him? Ridiculous! If Debienne and Poligny wanted a seat, they could have just asked us! Assuming, of course, that this is from them. And about the chorus girl, Christine Daae- if they knew she had talent, why didn't they just tell us the minute that Carlotta left? Why leave us this stupid note?"

Andre shrugged. "Perhaps they _were_ just joking. After all, we had inquired about the Opera Ghost yesterday, when the ballet girls spoke of it. Maybe they were just playing up on it to try and give us a fright."

"Perhaps." Firmin shook his head, "But it's an odd joke, if it is one."

"It is." Andre reassured him. "It has to be."

xxxxx

A few hours later, Christine stepped out from M. Reyer's office. The practice had been rigorous, considering that the musical opened that night. He had asked to see her again that afternoon, just to go over it a few more times.

As she walked down the hall, exhausted, she nearly ran straight into Meg.

"Oh, Christine! I just heard!" Meg hugged her friend. "Congratulations! I knew that you could do it."

"Do what?"

"Make the part! You really had me there last night, when you told me that you weren't going to try out."

"But I didn't. I just-"Christine broke off as Meg frowned, confused.

"You didn't?"

"No- you keep a secret?" she lowered her voice.

"Of course, Christine. What is it?"

"Do you remember how I told you of father, and how he said that he would send me the Angel of Music?"

Meg nodded slowly.

"Well, he has, Meg! I met him last night."

"Your father?"

"The Angel! Oh, Meg, he's wonderful! You should just hear the music he plays..."

"Christine," the ballet girl said seriously, "Are you feeling okay?"

Christine stopped and looked at her friend, frowning. "You don't believe me."

Meg sighed. "Well...not really. I'm sorry, I really am, but there's not much chance of that actually happening-"

"Oh," Christine snapped, "So your 'Phantom' can be real, but not my Angel?"

Meg blinked, taken aback. "No, that's not what I meant. Christine, you've never snapped at me before. Are you sure you're okay?"

Christine sighed. "I'm sorry Meg, it's just that...well...I'm just so happy. And you know, there is just as much a chance for my Angel to be real as your Phantom has a chance of being."

Meg smiled, and then nodded. "I suppose so. Fine... If I believe in your Angel, will you believe in the Phantom?"

Christine rolled her eyes, then nodded. "Oh, all right."

"Anyway- good luck for tonight. I have ballet practice, unlike _some_ people..."

Christine grinned. "Thanks. Have fun at your practice."

"Fun? Never."

Meg waved, and then ran off down the hall. Still smiling, Christine walked back to her room to rest for a bit before she had to return for more of her practice.

xxxxx

That night, the seats at the Opera House were full.

All except one, that is.

Andre and Firmin hadn't sold box five, convinced that Debienne and Poligny were going to show up and demand their seats.

Erik lingered a moment in the shadows before taking his seat.

Soon, the curtain opened, and the show began. Erik took mental notes as he watched. The chorus was good... The dancers needed more work. He winced as one of the violins in the pit hit a wrong note. No, that simply would not do. The man would have to go. He watched Christine intently as she preformed, and smiled. Yes, she had a very good voice. It needed a bit of training, but the audience loved her.

The play entered into the third act. They were approaching Elissa's big aria...

Christine looked nervous, but suddenly seemed to close her eyes and take courage. She stepped forward...

"Think of me,

Think of me fondly

When we've said

Goodbye!  
Remember me,

Once in a while,

Please promise me

You'll try!  
When you find

That once again you long

To take your heart back

And be free,

If you ever find

A moment

Spare a thought for me...

We never said

Our love was ever-green

Or as unchanging as the sea,

But if you can still

Remember

Stop, and think of me

Think of all the things

We've shared and seen-

Don't think about

The things which

Might have been-

Think of me,

Think of me waking

Silent and resigned!

Imagine me,

Trying too hard to

Put you from

My mind!  
Recall those days,

Look back on all those times

Think of the things we'll

Never do,

There will never be

A day when

I won't think

Of you!"

The audience applauded wildly, and Erik smiled. She was perfect. At long last he had found someone who actually shared his love of music. You could tell just by looking at her face that she loved to sing-

It was the audience that she was having trouble with. Every time she saw them, she shivered slightly.

"Don't look at them, then." Erik muttered softly, "Pretend they're not there..."

"We never said,

Our love was ever-green

Or as unchanging as the sea

But please promise me

That sometimes,

You will think...

Ahhhah-ha-ah-ha-ah,

Ahhhah-a-ha-ah-ha-ah,

Aha aha aha a-a,

Of Me!"

Christine smiled as the audience clapped, and bowed.

People handed her roses, which she gave out to the other girls.

"Beautifully performed," Erik said softly, smiling. "Very, very well done."

Then he stood and disappeared back into the shadows.

(A/N: Okay, so he was in it a little bit. Lol, anyway, I hope I did okay on this one, too. Please R&R!)


	4. Angel of Music

(A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews! Sorry about how long I took to update this time. My computer has been having some problems.

Aislin of the Shadows- Lol, yes, I know that they are all French and Carlotta is Italian (?...well, I know she's not French... When she says 'Si' that's Spanish... Oh well. I don't run a study on Carlotta...and pity anyone who does! Lol, still, if any of you know, I should probably be sure on that...). I was rushing when I wrote that chapter, and I realized my mistake after I posted it. Unfortunately, I was just too lazy to go back and correct it. I'm glad you noticed, though... you're the only one who said anything. Thank you for your honest review!)

**Chapter Four: Angel of Music**

After the play, Christine took a walk. She knew she had done well, and she wondered whether her angel had heard her or not.

She went up to the roof, hoping that she would meet him there.

After a long while, she slowly got to her feet, disappointed. He hadn't come, after all.

She had just reached the stairs when she heard something behind her. Christine jumped, scanning the shadows frantically with her eyes.

"Hello? Who's there?"

There was no reply.

More than a little frightened, Christine turned and fled back to her room, still shivering from the cool night air.

All the way there, she felt as though she was being followed.

She opened the door to enter her room, and froze... She was sure she had heard someone say something.

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned.

xxxxx

Meg frowned, upset at her friend's reaction. "Christine, are you okay? You're all cold- Where have you been?"

Visibly, Christine relaxed. "I'm fine, Meg. I just took a walk."

"If you're sure..." the ballet girl waited, and Christine nodded. "Okay, then. I just wanted to tell you that you were splendid! I never knew that piece could be so beautiful...of course, I've only ever heard Carlotta sing it."

Christine smiled. "Yes, she really ruined it, didn't she?"

"So..." Meg paused, "Did you hear from your ang-"

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Madame Giry entered. "Meg Giry! What are you doing? You are supposed to be at ballet practice. The dancing needs work, and it won't get any better unless you keep trying!"

Meg sighed. "Yes, mother."

Meg said goodbye to Christine, then hesitantly left.

Madame Giry waited until her daughter was gone, then turned back to Christine. "I have a note here, for you."

She held out a slim, yellowed piece of parchment, and the one-time chorus girl took it.

Madame Giry smiled. "He is pleased."

Then she left.

Christine frowned after her, pondering. Who had she been talking about? Was it possible that the ballet director knew about her Angel? But how?

Christine slid a finger through the seal on the note, and then unfolded it.

_To the newest Prima Donna,_

_Your performance this evening was extraordinary. A little rough around the edges, perhaps, but definitely exceptional. You are, by far, much better to listen to then that woman, Carlotta. The Opera House experienced no grave loss when she left. I shall begin preparing you for the next play immediately, as you will most assuredly be securing the main part._

_Signed,_

_Your Angel of Music_

Christine smiled. So he had heard her performance! But how had Madame Giry gotten her note from him? Why hadn't he met her on the roof top?

Christine carefully set the note down on her dresser, deciding that she would worry about it later.

xxxxx

_To the Opera House Managers-_

_Greetings from the Opera Ghost. The newest production of "Hannibal" was your best yet. The lead, Christine Daae, was especially sublime. Unfortunately, the dancing needs a lot of work, and the orchestra has a few sour notes. _

_You should begin by firing some of the chorus members. Next time look for a few who can actually sing, not simply stand there and look pretty. _

_The bassoon has to go, of course. All through the show he tortured my ears with his lamentable excuse for what he calls music. If I have to listen to him one more time, I shall take care of him myself._

_Several precious few of the dancers did well. The rest have feet like lead and posture like a sack of potatoes. If I need to list who they are here, then you are either blind or stupid._

_I look forward to your next (and, hopefully, better) production._

_I remain your humble servant,_

_O.G._

"They continue this insane game!" Andre exclaimed angrily. "And it never was very funny!"

"Opera Ghost? How crazy! Do they think they are being clever, or do they simply think we're stupid?"

"Well, they as good as said they thought we were stupid!" Andre pointed to the note.

"Wait a moment," Firmin reached over and took the piece of parchment from him, "There is a post script."

Firmin scanned it, and his eyes grew wide in anger. "What is this? A salary!"

"Didn't they mention that last time?"

"Yes, but surely they must be joking! What is this- 233,424.70 francs? They're out of their minds. There is no other explanation for this!"  
"And just look what they've added onto the end- Remember to keep Tier One Box 5 reserved! They didn't even come to the last production- I looked."

"We shall rent it out this time. It will show them!"

"Yes, I concur. Then all of this 'Opera Ghost' nonsense will be ended at last."

xxxxx

Christine had just finished changing into her dressing gown and was beginning to unpin her hair, when she heard someone whisper her name.

She gazed about her room. "Hello?"

"_Christine..."_

Christine relaxed, all of her fear leaving her. She knew that voice.

"Angel! I couldn't find you earlier, I-"

"My apologies. I was busy, Christine."

She blushed, trying not to smack herself. Of course he was busy... she couldn't expect him to be there every time she wished to talk to him.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"No matter. I am here, now."

Christine smiled shyly. "Where are you, angel?" she had tried to figure out in just what direction his voice was coming from, but it echoed. One moment it seemed to be coming from one place, the next it was in another.

"I am everywhere."

Of course, she should have thought of that! Quickly, Christine tried to cover it up. "Will you be teaching me, Angel?" How childish she sounded! Christine blushed deeper. He must think she was slow!

"Yes, of course, Christine." His voice was soothing and soft, reassuring her. She heard a note played on a violin. "Now, try to sing a scale, starting with that note."

Christine began, only to be stopped immediately.

"Stand up straighter, and try again."

She blinked, curious. "How can you tell I am not standing up straight?" She wondered briefly if he could see her.

"I can hear it in your voice. Try standing a bit straighter still..." He played the note again, and she tried once more.

Once again, she was stopped.

"Not so stiff, Christine. Relax."

Christine loosened up a little bit, then tried again.

This time, he stopped her because she was breathing the wrong way. The next time he stopped her when she held her head in the wrong position.

Finally, after an hour of practice, she got the scale right.

"Perfect. I think that will be all for tonight. You look tired." He sounded somewhat concerned.

"Only a little bit." Christine admitted. "But please don't go... not yet."

"I will wait until you fall asleep." The violin music started up, a soft lullaby.

Christine smiled faintly, and sat down in a nearby chair. She closed her eyes, humming along softly every once in a while, but growing more and more scarce.

Finally, she ceased humming all together.

xxxxx

Erik stopped playing. She was asleep, he could tell. She had stopped singing along with the music he played a little while ago.

Gently, he set the violin back in its case, and made his way back down through the cellars.

She wasn't bad, he thought, and with a little bit of training, she would have a voice like an Angel...

Erik smiled slightly as he mused on this. A voice like an Angel of Music...

(A/N: Eww, I don't like this chapter at all. I thought about scrapping it, but I figured that it's too much work to just throw away and re-start. Besides, I had you all wait long enough. I'm sorry about that, and I can only promise that hopefully the chapters to come will be better.)


	5. Singing Lessons

(A/N: Wow, lol, I'm thrilled to find that all of you didn't think that it was the complete mess I thought it was.

Fell4adeadguy: Yeah, it wasn't my best, that's for sure. I'm glad that you still enjoyed it, though!

AshleytheStrange: I'm glad that you like it. :)

Draegon-fire: It was definitely "rough around the edges." I agree with that last bit, too. It's harder than I thought it would be to write this.

Phtmangl1013: Lol, I'm glad that you thought that it wasn't "Eww"

Dragon-miko: I guess writers are harder on themselves than the readers are. I'm glad you enjoyed it, anyway. Wow, you think I'm good at Erik? Lol, I thought that's what I had trouble with. But thank you!

To Everyone: Uh oh. Do you know what this is? It's (for the most part) an Erik POV chapter. gulps If I don't completely mangle it...which there is a very great possibility that I will...I hope you enjoy it! In any circumstance, don't say I didn't warn you!)

**Chapter Five: Another Letter**

(Three days later...)

Erik sat down at his piano and looked at the keys, his mind elsewhere.

The new managers at the Opera House still hadn't paid his salary. They also had refused to listen to his advice on how to run the shows.

None of the chorus had been fired, the dancers were still as horrible as ever, and the only thing changed about the orchestra was the bassoon player, who had only been fired because the managers were too afraid that something would happen to him.

Christine Daae, who he had been giving singing lessons to for a few days now and was growing increasingly pleased with, had been demoted once again, after Carlotta miraculously returned to the Opera House the evening before.

To top everything off, he had just found out that the managers- those good-for-nothing idiots!- had rented out Tier One Box Five... _his_ box!

Erik clenched his fists to keep from striking the piano. What was wrong with them? When would they take the hint?!

Erik closed his eyes and dropped his head to his hands. He was in the process of sitting back up to play a few angry notes on the piano when he paused, scanning back over what he had just been thinking.

The only good thing that happened was that the bassoon player had been fired... They only fired him because they were too scared something would happen to him...

Abruptly Erik stood and walked over to his desk, where there was already a scrap of parchment and a pot of ink waiting.

Carefully, he dipped a sharpened quill in the ink and began to scratch out a note to the managers.

If it was a threat they wanted... than it was a threat they would get!

xxxxx

_To the Opera House managers-_

_It has come to my attention that you have rented out Tier One Box Five. This is _not_ acceptable. You shall immediately give the people their money back and tell them that this box is _not for sale.

_I have also noticed that the toad, Carlotta, has returned, and you have put her back in a lead position, which by all rights should belong to Christine. Instead, you have demoted Christine and gave The Toad her role. I demand that you switch their parts at once._

_Furthermore, you refuse to listen to my advice on your opera, which has hit an all time low. The dancing, if you choose to call it that, _must_ be improved. The chorus girls should learn to sing at _least_ decently, and the orchestra should learn how to play their instruments correctly._

_I might add, that if you insist on continuing to use Piangi in your performances, that he loses some weight. It is unhealthy for him and for you that he continues to be incredibly obese._

_It appears that I need to remind you once more that my salary is due by the end of the week. Precisely 233,424.70 francs should be turned over to Madame Giry that she may in turn give it to me._

_**If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!**_

_I remain your humble servant,_

_O.G._

Andre stared at the note a moment longer, before turning to Firmin.

"They don't really mean it..."

"This joke has gone too far! I can stand their hints about the opera, their jibes at Carlotta, and their games concerning some sort of Phantom, but I will _not_ be threatened! I don't even believe that they would do this...it's insane!"

Andre frowned. "What if it isn't them?"  
Firmin whirled around to face his partner. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously. "You don't actually _believe_ this nonsense about an Opera Ghost, do you?"

"O-of course not. My point is, what if it isn't the managers? What if it's an employee..." he trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Firmin.

"What are you driving at?"

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? The money should be turned over to _her._ Her daughter is friends with the girl, Daae. She wants us to focus more attention on the dancing, which _she_ instructs. When you really put your mind to it, it all fits together."

"What are you talking about?" Firmin demanded.

Andre looked sternly up at his friend. "Madame Giry."

xxxxx

Erik carefully picked up his violin. It was time for Christine's daily singing lesson. Under his instruction, her voice had steadily gotten better. Now, she could easily secure any main part that she wished...

Were it not for that toad, Carlotta.

Erik stepped into his boat and began to make his way across the lake. Carlotta, he was certain, had been dealt with. After reading his note, the managers would surely give Christine back the part that she so fully deserved.

He had reached the edge of the lake, now.

After the managers read his letter, everything would be righted. The cowards would do as he had instructed, for fear that he would make them regret it if they didn't.

Erik now stood before the trapdoor that opened into Christine's dressing room. "Christine."

Her response came immediately- she had been waiting for him.

"Angel!"

Erik smiled softly and took out his violin. As he did this, Christine asked what they would work on today.

He lifted the violin into place. "The songs for the lead of the upcoming show, of course."

There was a small silence, then Christine spoke hesitantly. "I thought you knew- I didn't get the lead this time."

"I knew. If all goes well, and it will, the managers shall have a sudden change of heart. _You_ shall be playing the lead, and Carlotta," he spat her name as if it were poison, "Will be playing the role that they gave you... a silent one."

"But Angel-"

"Do not argue with me. Today we will be studying the songs from the first act- I believe the script was delivered to you?"

"It was." Christine sounded slightly hurt.

Erik sighed. He hadn't meant to upset her. The next time he spoke, it was gentle and encouraging.

"Everything will be fine, Christine. Please, trust me."

"I trust you, Angel."  
"Good. Now, would you please turn to page three." It wasn't a question.

There was a rustle of paper. "I am ready, Angel."

Erik played the introduction on his violin, then Christine began to sing.

He stopped her several times to correct her, but overall she did fairly well. He was pleased.

When they had that song down, they began the second one, then the third.

At the end of the third song, Erik stopped her. She was beginning to sound tired, and it was getting late.

"That's enough for one night. You did well."

"Angel- before you go... there's just one thing..."

Erik halted in the process of setting his violin into its case, wondering if she was going to ask him to play it again.

"It's just that I- well, all angels have names, don't they? I was just wondering if...if you would tell me your name?"

Erik paused, then finished putting the violin away.

"Angel?" she sounded worried, as if she was scared she had offended him in some way.

"Of course I have a name," he told her quietly. For a moment, he hesitated, then decided it wouldn't matter. "It is Erik."

"Erik..." Christine repeated softly, sounding as if she were seeing how it felt in her mouth. "Erik..."

Erik's heart skipped a beat. It was so odd to hear her say his name...

"Goodnight, Christine." He reached down and picked up his violin, then turned to walk back to the boat.

"Goodnight...Erik."

xxxxx

Erik got into his boat and pushed off from the shore. He had never felt this way in his life. His fingers trembled slightly as they gripped the paddle. What was wrong with him?

When he got to the other side of the lake, he scooped up his violin and climbed out of the boat.

There was something about that girl. She was so pretty, so innocent, so trusting.

Slowly he lifted his hand up to his head, running his fingers carefully over the mask that covered the right side of his face.

What would she think of him if she knew what he really was? Not an angel, but a monster...

Erik's hand dropped limply down to his side. She would hate him. She would hate him for tricking her, and she would hate him just for what he was. Everyone did, and it would never change...

Erik frowned, setting the violin up against the wall of his music room.

Silently, he turned to his piano. At last, a way to vent his anguish.

He sat down, moving his fingers tenderly across the keys. He took a breath and closed his eyes, then began to play, pouring his soul into the music.

A/N:

(Ducks cabbages and overripe tomatoes, running for the door.)


	6. A Red Rose

(A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers!

AshleytheStrange: I'm so glad you liked it! After I went back and reread it, I decided that it was my favorite, too.

SilverWolf47: I'll try not to be so hard on myself. Or, at least I won't say anything. Lol.

Draegon-fire: Thanks for the advice, I'll try it. :)

LadyWillow: Lol, thank you! I'm glad you're looking forward to my updates.

**Chapter Six: A Red Rose**

"Erik..." Christine whispered to herself when she knew that her Angel was gone. It was a simple name- a beautiful name.

Christine smiled to herself and ran a brush though her hair. She jumped when there was a knock on her door.

Wondering who it could be when it was this late in the evening, she quickly went over to the door and opened it.

Meg slipped in, her face as white as a sheet of paper.

"Who were you talking to?" she hurried on before Christine could even respond. "Never mind, I just wanted to tell you, the managers were threatened by the Opera Ghost, and now they're blaming it on my mother!"

"What?!"

"I know! I'm so worried- I think they're going to fire her. It's not fair! How could they blame her, she doesn't have anything to do with... well, I suppose that's not true. She takes the money to the Phantom, and is in charge of Box Five, but other than that..."

"Calm down, Meg. Take deep breaths. They won't fire her- they can't! Who would take over as the ballet instructor? Besides, they have no proof."

"That won't matter to them. Mr. Reyer could take charge of the ballet, too. Oh, Christine, this is awful!"

"Well, the Phantom is going to be angry... I mean, the managers obviously aren't taking him seriously."

"Oh, come on, a few days ago _you_ didn't even take him seriously."

Christine thought this over for a moment, then nodded. She still didn't exactly believe in him, but she had enough sense to know that it wasn't Madame Giry.

"Still, it's obviously not your mother. I mean...well..."

Meg sighed. "I'm scared, Christine."

"The Phantom will take care of it. He won't let them fire her..." She was doubtful, but she didn't want her friend to know that.

"If not, your Angel will, right?" Meg joked.

Christine frowned. "I never thought of that... Oh, I don't know, Meg, he doesn't really have anything to do with the Opera House, I don't know what he could do about it."

"Christine, I was just joking."

Christine frowned. "Then you don't believe me, do you?"

"Well..." Meg looked apologetically up at her. "Not really..."

"Do you think I'm crazy, then? That the voice I hear isn't really there?"

"No, Christine, it's not that at all! I think that you probably dreamed this Angel up. Really, you always have been a bit of a dreamer, and-"

"I wasn't asleep! You heard our conversation just before you came in! I was talking to E- my Angel." Christine retorted hotly.

Meg's eyes widened. "You mean... That was him?" she frowned. "Christine, can you see him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how do you know he's an angel?"

Christine frowned angrily at her friend. "Who else do you know that you can't see?" she asked sarcastically.

Meg took a deep breath, bracing herself for Christine's reaction. "The Opera Ghost."

For a moment, Christine just stared at her. Then a kind of hurt filled her eyes. "Oh Meg, how could you?"

"I'm so sorry, Christine! It's just that... It's just that I worry about you! This Angel that you talk about- he's not like any angel that I've ever heard of!"

"That's just because...He's different. He's special."

"All right, Christine, I know I should trust you. You have good judgment, and I'm sure you can tell the difference. Just... be careful?" Meg looked worriedly at her friend, who just nodded.

"And Meg- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry. Please- let's not fight about this again."

Meg smiled. "Of course we won't. I should probably go now, though, it's getting late."

"Tell me what happens to your mother, okay?"

"You'll probably know by tomorrow morning, anyway." The ballet girl said gloomily, then she bade her friend good night, and left.

Christine stared for a while at the closed door, wondering what would happen to Madame Giry. What would the Opera Ghost- if there was such a thing- do? Would he be offended? Or wouldn't he really care?

She fell asleep still thinking about this.

xxxxx

Madame Giry stepped through the door to the managers' office, head held high. She knew that they thought that she was the Phantom, and she was aware that they would probably fire her.

Chances were, however, they would miss her before long.

"Ah, Madame Giry," Andre smiled coldly up at her, "We have something we wish to discuss with you..."

xxxxx

Erik found out the next day that Madame Giry had been fired.

Fired, ironically, because the new managers believe that _she_ was the Phantom! Part of this was his unwise decision to include her in his letter, he was sure, but most of it was the stupidity of the managers.

Erik seethed and paced around his room. They would pay! How dare they shrug him off like this!

Suddenly he stopped. Yes, they would pay...

Erik snatched his hat and cloak and swept from the room.

He was on his way to the managers' office when he nearly ran straight into Buquet up in the flies. He stopped, just out of sight.

"W-who's there?" the master of the flies squeaked.

Erik's eyes narrowed. So, this was the man he had heard about. The man who had been spreading cruel rumors about his ugliness and his maliciousness...

"Who's there?" Buquet repeated, sounding more confident.

Erik slid off his mask and slowly stepped out of the shadows, his golden eyes glaring at the person before him.

Buquet went as white as a ghost and emitted a kind of strangled scream. He took a step backwards, slipping off of the edge of the platform they were on.

Erik stepped forward just in time to see the man's head get caught inside a rope that looked suspiciously like a noose.

Buquet's head snapped upward, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling.

Erik backed away into the shadows once more, his fingers fumbling with his mask. He hadn't meant to kill the man, he'd simply meant to scare him...

He frowned down at the body, an idea suddenly forming in his mind. No one would ever believe this were an accident...

He seemed to have found his payback, after all. Erik pulled out a scrap of spare parchment, but found that he hadn't brought his quill.

For lack of ink, he bit his finger and wrote in his own blood.

_A Message from the Opera Ghost-_

_Madame Giry is not and never will be the Phantom. Re-hire her immediately... or else._

_O.G._

Erik let the parchment drift to the floor beneath Buquet, then pulled out a rose that he had had tucked into his upper pocket. Just to be sure that no one would over look his note, he dropped that on top of it.

When he was sure that it would be noticed, Erik hurriedly made his way back to his lair.

xxxxx

Christine waited for Meg just outside of her room.

After like what seemed forever, she saw her friend running toward her, eyes wide with fear.

"Christine! Oh, Christine!"

Now that Meg was closer, she could see that her friend was deathly pale and shivering.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"Come see...it's Buquet..." Meg shuddered, pulling Christine along behind her.

They got to the stage area, where the other ballet girls were assembled. Also there were the two managers and Carlotta.

Everyone had horrified looks on their faces.

Christine looked up and automatically wished that she hadn't. Instead, she dropped her eyes to the ground.

Sitting innocently on the floor underneath Buquet was a piece of parchment, and a rose.

No one seemed to want to go near them, so Christine gathered her courage and went to pick them up.

Everyone's eyes were on her as she scooped the two objects up and quickly backed away from underneath Buquet.

In a shaky voice, she read the note out loud. Meg peered over her shoulder. Almost immediately the ballet girl squeaked and backed away. "Christine, droop it! It's written in blood!"

Christine quickly let the paper fall harmlessly to the floor. Still, she wished she could have examined it closer... She thought that she had seen the handwriting somewhere before...

"Well, Christine, you can't say that the Phantom isn't real now, can you?"

Christine shook her head, staring at the remaining object in her hand.

A single, blood red rose...

(A/N: Well, it's kind of short, but I hope you all still liked it. :)


	7. The Opera Ghost

(A/N: To my wonderful reviewers:

LadyWillow: Wow, I don't think I've ever met anyone so excited to hear what comes next, lol. Sorry I took so long to update!

SilverWolf47: Glad that you liked that one. :)

Dragon-miko: Thank you! I hope you like this one as much.

Draegon-fire: Thanks! ...I hate to ask, but you've confused me...What advice?

bundles-'o-joy: Wow, thanks for reviewing! I'm so glad that you're reading this- I just _love_ your story!

**Chapter Seven: The Opera Ghost**

Christine and Meg returned to Christine's room. It wasn't until they were there that Christine realized that she still held the rose in her hand. Quickly, she dropped it on her dresser.

"Well, we know that my mother probably has her job back." Meg said shakily, "They wouldn't dare upset the Phantom any more, would they?"

"No...but what if they think that _she_ killed Buquet?"

"They can't. She wasn't even here, and they know it. Mother left last night, and they wouldn't let her even come back in."

"Okay, well tell me what happens, all right?" Christine told her friend as Meg got up to leave.

"You'll probably hear for yourself, but all right. Aren't you coming with me now?"

"No...I have something I want to investigate."

"Oh...okay. Well, I'll see you in a little while... be careful."

Meg shut the door softly behind her.

When she was sure her friend was gone, Christine pulled a scrap of paper out of her pocket. When no one was looking, she had scooped the Phantom's threatening note back up. She just _knew_ she had seen the handwriting before, and she thought that she knew where...

Christine opened up a drawer to her dresser and pulled out the note she had received from her Angel on that day that seemed so long ago.

Taking a deep breath, she held the two notes side by side.

A wave of terror washed over her as she realized that what she had suspected all along was true.

Erik, her Angel of Music, was the Opera Ghost...

xxxxx

"It's a disaster, I tell you, a disaster!" Andre shouted.

"Well, now we know that Madame Giry isn't the ghost."

"There isn't any way she could have snuck back in..." Andre trailed of hopefully.

"None. Someone else is the Phantom...and I'd suggest that it isn't an employee at all... In fact, maybe it _is_ a ghost..."

"A ghost?! You've gone insane, Firmin."

"Then what else or who else could it be?!"

For once, Andre was silent.

xxxxx

Erik watched silently from the shadows as the managers discussed him, a small smile on his face. Yes, they would believe in him before long...

Erik slunk back out of the room and headed for Christine's. It was time for her lesson.

Erik reached her room with a few minutes to spare. Christine was already waiting for him.

"Christine-"

"_Angel_."

Erik frowned. Christine's voice was full of sarcasm. "What is it, Christine?"

"You _lied_ to me, Erik! You lied to me, you pretended you were something you weren't, and on top of everything else, you're a murderer!"

Erik froze, surprised at this sudden outburst. "A murderer?..."

"You killed Buquet. You aren't an angel- you're a demon! You're the Phantom of the Opera, and don't deny it! I'm the one who picked up the note to the managers about Buquet, and I recognized the handwriting!"

Erik was silent, dread filling him. _'Don't act so surprised about it,' _he scolded himself, '_You knew this would happen eventually. She doesn't love you- she loved her Angel, and you aren't her angel. You're a demon, just as she said...'_

Erik put his face in his hands for a moment, and then looked back up. "You're right," he hissed, "I'm _not_ an angel. But I didn't kill Buquet. The fool slipped and fell to his death."

"Then what about the note?" Christine demanded.

"I wanted them to hire Madame Giry back. I wrote the note to scare them...and it worked. They re-hired her."

Christine paused for a moment, and then asked, "Where are you _really_?"

Erik debated on not telling her, or perhaps lying and saying that he really _was_ a ghost, and she wouldn't be able to see him. After a moment, he decided against it. He had lied to her enough.

"Behind the mirror."

"Behind the mirror?" he could hear her move over to investigate. "But how?"

Slowly, Erik reached over and flipped the catch. The mirror opened.

For the first time, he was face to face with Christine and she was able to see him.

"Erik..."

He tensed, waiting for her to yell at him again, but she didn't. Instead, she reached up and touched his mask curiously.

Erik backed away, and she let her hand drop. She didn't ask about it.

"Do you live here, in the Opera House?" Christine sounded more curious then upset.

"Yes."

"Where?"

Erik hesitated again, then held out a hand. "Let me show you."

Christine bit her lip, and then looked up into his eyes. Slowly, she took his outstretched hand.

Carefully and tenderly he led her down the dark passage that led to the lake. Christine clung to him, trembling.

"What is it?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm afraid of the dark." Christine whispered.

Erik smiled softly. "But there isn't anything to be afraid of...Darkness can be beautiful if you look at it right..."

They had reached the boat that would take them to his lair.

Gently, he helped her into the boat. She still looked afraid, but not as much as she had before.

Erik got into the boat after her and pushed off from the shore. They glided out through the water.

"Darkness became my best friend..."

(A/N: Sorry about the typos in the last chapter, and if there are any in this one. I'll get around to fixing them eventually. I'm kind of squished for time right now, though. This chapter was kind of short, but there's nothing I can do about it. Sorry! The next one will be longer.)


	8. The Phantom's Lair

(Thank you to: LifesVictory, SilverWolf47, draegon-fire, fell4adeadguy, LadyWillow, Phoenixthemenace (Lol...Phoenix is my cat's name...), AshleytheStrange, The Real Christine Daae, dragon-miko, Ladystrider, T'Res, and Kianra. Wow, lots of reviews! I was really busy this week, so it took a little while to update. Sorry!

**Chapter Eight: The Phantom's Lair**

Christine jumped slightly as the boat hit the shore.

Erik got out first, then helped her up. She gasped- before her was the most magnificent place she'd ever seen.

The paintings and murals both on canvas and on the ceiling were exquisite.

"They're beautiful!" Christine exclaimed breathlessly.

"You like them?" Erik sounded pleased, "Most people that come down here- which are very few- never notice them."

"How couldn't they?" After one last look, Christine followed Erik out and into another room.

This one, if it was possible, was even more beautiful than the last. You could tell just by looking at it that it was Erik's favorite room.

Unlike the rest of the lair, nothing in here was even touched by dust. It was almost warm and inviting...even though nothing down this far beneath the ground was actually warm.

Christine shivered and pulled her robe closer around herself, eyes still wandering around the room.

There were all sorts of assorted instruments set about the room, carefully polished and dusted. The thing that stood out the most, however, was the grand piano in the center of the room. Nearby, there was a small desk with an array of papers, an ink pot, and a quill.

"Welcome to my Music Room." Erik said proudly, gesturing about the place.

"It's amazing!" Christine walked over to a violin that was carved in minute detail. She was about to run a hand over it, but stopped and looked at Erik first, just to make sure it was okay.

Erik nodded, and she traced the carvings with her fingers, marveling at the craftsmanship. It must have taken years to complete!

"Christine, it's time for your singing lesson- If you wish, I can take you back to your room, but I'd prefer to stay here. It's up to you."

Christine turned back to Erik and smiled a bit hesitantly. "I don't mind staying for a little while, if you want to."

Erik motioned to her to follow, then crossed the room and sat down at his piano.

Christine stood nervously behind him, not quite sure what to do.

"The music for this piece is on the desk." Erik told her without even turning around.

Relieved that she now knew what she was doing, Christine hurried over and automatically picked out the piece she knew he was referring to. In doing so, however, she couldn't help but look at the other things on the desk, which were all written in Erik's somewhat messy scrawl.

"What's this?" she asked, reaching over and picking up a stack of papers.

She looked at Erik, who winced slightly. "Put them back down," he told her, sharply but not unkindly.

Christine hurriedly set the papers back on the desk, but didn't stop looking curiously at them. On the front of the first page was scribbled _Don Juan Triumphant._

"Christine..." Erik began warningly.

Christine pried her eyes away from the parchment and walked back over to the piano. "What is it?"

"What is what?" Erik looked away from her, back at the music he was about to play.

"Don Jaun Triumphant."

He sighed, as she obviously wasn't going to give up on the topic. "It's an opera."

"You wrote it?"

"Yes. It's...It's my masterpiece. I've been working on it for years."

Christine's eyes wandered back over to where it lay on the desk. "What is it about?"  
"Christine, your lesson..." Erik reminded her sternly.

"Yes, of course." Christine studied the piece of music carefully, mentally noting the places where she should breathe, and the parts that she might have trouble with. "But how do you know I'll get the lead? I'm pretty sure that the managers are still going to want Carlotta to do it."

"Not now, to be sure." Erik was slightly pleased about the effect Buquet's death had had on everyone. He was sure now that they were going to take him seriously.

Christine quieted after that, not wanting to think about how Erik had been the cause of Buquet's death, even if he hadn't purposely killed him. She got the feeling that he didn't care as much as he should about it.

After a little while, Erik began to play the first piece. Christine took a deep breath, then started to sing along with it.

As usual, she was stopped so many times that she lost count. She chewed her lip nervously as Erik corrected her yet again. Wasn't she getting any better? Did he think she was an idiot for not learning what he was trying to teach her? Even if he wasn't the Angel of Music, he was still assuredly a genius...

"Christine, did you hear me?"

Christine blushed slightly as she realized that she hadn't heard a word that Erik had been telling her. No wonder she wasn't getting any better!

"I'm sorry Erik, would you repeat that, please?"

"I _said_..."

Why did he hide his face behind a mask? Did he have a deformity? Some kind of scar, perhaps? Christine wondered what he really looked like. Surely it couldn't be that bad! Besides, she was sure she wouldn't mind seeing his face. It had to be better than that dreadful white mask...

"_Christine!"_

Christine jerked back from her thoughts, realizing that once more she hadn't been paying attention.

She could feel herself go red as he glared at her, sick of repeating himself. His glare didn't last long, though.

Erik closed his eyes and sighed. "Did you hear _anything_ I just told you?"

Christine's face got redder still. "N-not exactly."

"I said, you're doing very well. You've improved a lot since we first started-"

Christine could have smacked herself. There he was, complimenting her, and she hadn't even listened!

"...but you still have a long way to go."

"Oh." Christine shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling incredibly stupid.

Erik studied her a moment before saying, "You look tired. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring you here so late. You could stay in a guest room, if you'd like."

Christine smiled up at him and nodded. "I'd like that."

"Follow me." Erik stood, and she took his arm. He led down a dark hall to another room. This one was somewhat plain, with only a little bit of furniture. Christine didn't mind, though.

Erik left after she said goodnight.

Christine paced the room, then tried to lay down and get some sleep. Sleep, however, had other plans. She tossed and turned for a while, but finally got back up, more awake then she had been before.

Finally she decided to go back to the Music Room and see if Erik was still awake. Maybe after she listened to him play an instrument- whatever instrument- she would be able to sleep better.

Quickly and quietly, Christine crept back down the hall, shivering at the darkness. Finally she reached the Music Room, whose door was slightly ajar.

From inside, she could hear Erik playing something furiously on the piano. The song sounded angry, full of hate and malice, and was unlike anything Christine had heard him play before.

She frowned, not sure if she liked this new music, then gently pushed the door open just wide enough to slip inside.

Erik didn't even notice her as she walked over to stand behind him. He was working on composing Don Juan Triumphant, what he had called his masterpiece. Christine bit her lip, thinking that she liked the other music he had composed more. This one was full of such hatred that it made her tremble.

Still, Erik didn't see her. He turned away from the piano, and scribbled out what he had just played. He leaned back from it for a moment, staring intensely at what he'd just written. After a moment, he suddenly slammed the paper back on the desk and crossed out everything he had just composed. Then he began to replay it.

Christine watched in fascination for a moment, before stepping slightly closer as he paused to write something down.

She was now staring at his mask, her curiosity stronger then ever. What did he look like, this man who had a voice like an Angel, but a hatred that would rival a demon's? She crept closer still, wondering what had caused such hatred.

He wasn't watching her yet, and she bet that it was safe to assume he hadn't even realized that she was in the room.

Hesitantly she reached out to grasp his mask, her curiosity getting the better of her. At the last moment, however, he turned away and her hand snatched at air.

The second he turned back, her fingers closed around the mask, and she slid it off of his face, letting it fall gently to the floor...

(A/N: Okay, so it wasn't much longer, but I wanted to stop this chapter there...)


	9. Behind the Mask

(A/N: Sorry about the wait, everyone! I wasn't home all weekend, and therefore couldn't post. So, so, so sorry for making you wait! It almost made me feel guilty leaving you hanging like that... almost...)

**Chapter Nine: Behind the Mask**

For a moment, Erik sat still, frozen in shock. It was true; he hadn't even noticed Christine was in the room, let alone right behind him.

A series of emotions rushed through him as he realized what had happened. At first, he was afraid- afraid of what she would think of him... a monster. Then he was sad, knowing that she probably would be frightened, and might even scream. Then he got terribly angry. How _dare_ she! How dare she invade his privacy like that, and possibly destroy the only happiness he'd ever had?

Erik clenched his hands into fists. Well, if she wanted to see his face, then so be it!

He whirled around to face her, his features unshielded.

Christine's eyes widened in fear and she gasped, shocked. She fell back, snatching his mask off of the floor. Then she looked at the ground, and refused to move her eyes the slightest bit upwards.

"Look at me, curse you!" Erik shouted, jerking her chin upwards, "You wanted to see me, now _look at me!_"

Christine backed further away, out of his grasp. She was crying now, but Erik didn't notice.

"Is this what you wanted to see?! No, Christine, _Curse You_!" Erik fell back into a chair, trembling hands now covering his face. "_Curse you!"_

He didn't dare look at her now, not after how he had acted. For a while he sat as he was, head in his hands, trying to gather his senses.

He didn't know what had happened to Christine, for he didn't look up. He hadn't the faintest idea of where she even was- for all he knew, she had fled the room by now and was hopelessly lost in his lair.

Erik didn't know how long he sat like that, not daring to cast the faintest glance upwards. If he had, he would have seen Christine, still standing before him- a few feet away, admittedly, but still there.

xxxxx

Christine didn't know what to do. She was terrified, as anyone would be, even if they wouldn't admit it. She was shocked that this man, who not too long ago she had believed was her Angel, could look like this... that _any_ man could look like this. Most of all, however, she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

She stared at the mask that sat in her shaking hands. Why had she done that? Why, when he had been nothing but kind to her?

Christine glanced over at Erik, who was hiding his deformed face behind his long, graceful fingers. She bit her lip. How dare she shatter his trust in her, and his sense of security?

Slowly her sense of guilt and compassion overwhelmed her terror. Truly, his face wasn't that bad... she could get used to it.

But for now...

Christine took a hesitant step forward, worried that he was going to shout at her again. She couldn't bear to hear him yell like that, especially not at her...even if she had deserved it.

"Erik..." she whispered.

He didn't look up.

She closed the distance between them, then stopped right before him. Still, he wouldn't meet her gaze. Which, Christine admitted to herself, was probably for the better- she still needed time to get used to his face.

Gently, Christine laid the half mask in his lap, making sure that he knew it was there.

Erik quickly turned away and slid it back on, but still did not face her.

"Erik-"

"Come, Christine, I'm taking you back to the Opera House."

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that she would rather stay here with him, but no sound came out.

He swept passed her out of the door, and she reluctantly followed.

xxxxx

The journey back was completely silent, neither of them saying anything.

Erik was sure that she hated him by now, and Christine was certain that he wasn't ever going to forgive her.

At last, they reached Christine's room. As Christine stepped back in, Erik slunk back off into the shadows, half hoping that he would never see her again.

All hopes of this, however, were shatter when Christine called back to him.

"Goodnight, Erik."

He turned to see her looking after him. She smiled, and his heart lifted.

Perhaps...just perhaps... she didn't think he was a monster, after all. As he made his way back to his lair, he told himself that he wouldn't lose his temper like that again.

xxxxx

Christine stood at her mirror for a long while after Erik left, wondering if he was still angry with her.  
When she had said goodnight, he had turned back to her, and her hopes lifted. He hadn't said anything, however, which made her think that it was probable that he _was_ still angry.

She wondered if he would be too upset to even return.

Christine collapsed on her bed, head pounding. It had been an exhausting day, and she wasn't feeling well.

She rolled over to look back at the mirror, but her eyes were drawn elsewhere.

Still laying innocently on her desktop was a brilliant red rose.

Christine smiled and stood up, headache forgotten, then went back over to it. Carefully, she tucked the rose behind her ear.

Then, she paced the room nervously, wondering what to do about Erik His face had scared her a bit, it was true, but it was more shock that had caused her to back away. She knew now that she wanted to see him again, but she was worried that he didn't want to see _her_.

Christine sat down at her desk, chewing her lip. She wondered if she should write him a letter, begging his forgiveness.

She took up her quill and dipped it in ink. Then, in her best handwriting, she wrote,

_Dear Erik—_

Christine stopped, suddenly feeling stupid. A letter wouldn't mend what she had done. He probably would never, ever trust her again...

Finally, the day caught up with her and sleep overcame her. Her head dropped down against the desk, and the quill fell from her hand.

That was how Erik found her when he came back the next morning to check on her, with her head pressed against a sheet of parchment with the heading _Dear Erik_, her brown curls scattered across the desk, and his rose, tucked gently behind her ear.

(A/N: Okay, so it's short again. This week is really, _really_ busy for me, so I hope you can forgive it. I only just have time to update one fanfic at a time, and they'll probably all be short.

I promise you some nice, long chapters when this week is over! Sorry! Please R&R. :)


	10. And His Voice gave me Wings

(A/N: Okay, I have a nice, _long_, break. Let's see...I have...three and a half hours... before my performance to write a really long chapter. Maybe...

lol, I'll try, for all of my awesome reviewers!)

**Chapter Ten: And His Voice gave me Wings...**

"Christine! Christine, get up!"

She moaned, "Meg, what is it this time?"

"My mother has been hired again!"

Christine yawned. "Great, Meg, now let me sleep-"

"What's this?" Meg slid the letter Christine had begun to write off of the desk.

"No!" Christine cried quickly, snatching it back. "It-it's nothing."

Meg frowned. "Nothing? Then why are you hiding it? And where did you get the rose?"

"What ro-"Suddenly Christine remembered tucking Erik's rose behind her ear, and blushed. "Oh, that...I, um..."

Meg's eyes widened, "Wait a minute- isn't that the Opera Ghost's rose? The one you picked up yesterday!"

"No- I mean...Yes. But _Meg_-"

"Christine! You actually _kept _that thing?" Meg shuddered, "Get rid of it, I can't bear to see it... it brings back such awful sights..."

Christine stared at her friend, then slowly said, "No, Meg. Besides, if you're referring to Buquet, what if the Opera Ghost didn't do it?"

Meg blinked at her. "Christine, have you gone insane? Of _course_ the Opera Ghost did it, he even left proof. _That rose_ was part of it!"

Christine bit her lip, debating. She had to tell _someone_ about Erik. She had to get these feelings off of her chest.

"Meg..." she refused to meet her friend's eyes, "Can I tell you something?"

Meg raised an eyebrow at her, confused. "Of course, Christine, you can always tell me everything, you know that."

Christine shifted nervously. "Maybe...maybe you'd better sit down."

Frowning, Meg sat down on the edge of her bed, and Christine sat down beside her. "The Opera Ghost... he's not _really_ a ghost, you know."

Meg made a strange, choking noise, then burst out into laughter. "Oh, Christine, you scared me for a moment! I thought you wanted to talk about something serious, but no. You're still onto the 'there is no Phantom' jest!"

"I didn't say there wasn't a Phantom," Christine interrupted, "I just said that he wasn't a ghost."

Meg stopped laughing abruptly. "What do you mean?"

"Meg...I've met the Phantom. His name is Erik, and he lives under-"

"Christine, this isn't a funny joke! Just stop now, please."

Christine stood, trembling. "I'm not joking, Meg, I'm not! Please, listen to me. Remember my Angel? Well, I was wrong... you were right! There is no Angel of Music- or, if there is, he never visited me. It was Erik, all along."

Meg stared at her, trying to process the information. "Erik...Erik is the Phantom, right?"

Christine nodded. "But he's not bad, truly! He was the one who gave me singing lessons. He's a genius, Meg! You should hear him play the violin-"

"Christine, he killed a man!" Meg jumped to her feet, suddenly looking frightened.

"No, he didn't, it was all an accident!"

"An accident?! He as good as _admitted_ he killed Buquet!"

"No! He staged that letter so that the managers would just _think_ he did it- he wrote that note to make them hire your mother back!"

"Christine...don't get me wrong...I'm extremely happy that my mother has her job back, but...there's something...strange...about that situation. I mean, convincing someone that you killed a man isn't the way to get someone re-hired!"

"They...they wouldn't listen to him any other way!" Christine fumbled, knowing that Meg was right even as she said it.

"Why are you sticking up for him?" Meg demanded.

"Because...because he... Oh, Meg!" Christine fell back onto her bed, trying in vain to stop the rush of tears that now flowed freely down her face. "I don't know why! I just...I just..."

Meg's eyes darkened. "Christine..." she slowly sat back down next to her friend. "Christine, look at me."

Hesitantly, Christine did so.

"Christine..." the dancer whispered, "Do you love him?"

There was a long pause, and silence filled the room. Meg watched worriedly as her friend grew paler and paler.

"No... no Meg, leave me alone! Forget I mentioned him..."

"Christine, why-"

"Just forget about it!"

"I can't, Christine, I think you _do_ love him-"

"Meg! Don't say that! Don't!"

"Why not? Christine, you're scaring me! This man is _dangerous_, you can't love him!"

"I never said I did!" Christine said desperately.

"You as good as said it!"

The two stared at each other for a while.

"Meg...please...just forget I mentioned him, for both of our sakes."

Meg chewed on her lip. "I can't forget, Christine, but I won't say anything, I swear. Just promise me one thing- promise me that you'll never so much as talk to him again."

Christine looked down at her hands, then whispered so quietly that Meg could hardly hear her, "I promise..."

xxxxx

Erik arrived at the mirror just in time to hear Meg leaving. He was silent a moment, not sure how to begin the conversation. Instead, he paced distractedly.

Not a minute later, he stubbed his toe on a sharp rock and cursed softly for being so careless.

Christine must have heard him, because a second later she said quietly but clearly, "Erik? Are you there?"

He stood still, not sure what to say. Finally, he spoke. "I am."

"Erik...Erik..." his heart lifted even as she said his name, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean... I didn't think..." there was another drawn out pause. "Are you angry with me? Could you ever forgive me?"

Erik leaned up against the mirror, hardly believing what he was hearing. "I already have, Christine."

There was only silence for a long, long time. He knew what caused the quiet- she was thinking of his face again, his horrid, deformed face. He knew that it frightened her- it scared everyone- but perhaps...perhaps she could overcome that fear...

"Christine..."

"Erik?"

Perhaps she would learn to look past his appearance, and into his soul...

"Christine..." he would have to help her. It would be no easy feat for her to overcome her fright... "I have been teaching you to sing for a while now, but I wonder... have you ever heard me sing?"

"...No...I haven't..." it sounded as though she was realizing this for the first time. "I haven't... but I would like to."

He waited just a moment longer, then began to sing. He started softly at first, a quiet lullaby, but gradually his tone grew louder and sweeter, filled with passion and strength.

Christine just sat and listened, lost in the sound of his voice.

xxxxx

That evening, Christine wasn't at rehearsals for their next show.

As soon as it was over, an extremely worried Meg ran to investigate, not even bothering to change out of her ballet clothes.

She found Christine curled up in the chair by her desk, fast asleep once more.

Meg went over and gently shook her.

Christine's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. "Meg!"

Meg only had to take one look at her face to realize what had happened.   
"You talked to him again, didn't you? And after you promised me, too!"

Christine's eyes were slightly glazed over as she answered. "I know Meg, I'm sorry, but I had to."

"You _didn't_ have to, you only thought you did!"

Christine's smile only grew, her eyes unfocused and uncaring. "Oh, Meg, he came back, and this time he sang to me...He sang, and his voice gave me wings!"

Meg stepped back, eyes troubled. "Christine-"

"I felt as though I could fly, Meg, it was so beautiful!"

"_Christine-"_

"You should have heard-"

"_Christine!"_

Christine's eyes snapped back into focus. Meg watched as realization at what she had been saying flooded Christine's face, and her friend blushed.

"I-I'm sorry Meg...what time is it?"

"Six o' clock. You missed rehearsals."

"Did I?" her voice was beginning to sound slightly vague again.

"I knew it, Christine, you _do_ love him!"

That caught Christine's attention. "N-no! I don't!

Meg shook her head sadly. "Whatever you say, Christine."

"I don't!"

Meg walked back over to the door.

"M-meg, you're not going to tell anyone about him, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

Christine sighed in relief. "Thank you."

Meg softly closed the door behind her. Quietly, she told it, "You do love him, Christine... You just haven't realized it yet."

(A/N: Well, it's longer than usual... I have to work on updating my other one, though, sorry!)


	11. Faust

(Thanks again for all of the reviews! Gah, I'm going to be here all day. I have a sore throat from that stupid play (I had to scream a lot). Well, at least that means I can update on all of my fanfiction stories while drinking hot chocolate and listening to Christmas carols…)

**Chapter Eleven: Faust **

Andre paced the room, running a hand through his hair. Firmin was sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers on it.

"We're faced with a dilemma, my friend." He said at last.

"A _dilemma?!_ Is _that_ what you call it?! I'd say crisis, perhaps, or even disaster, but _dilemma?_"

Firmin ignored him. "I say that we disregard this ghost's threats and demands. Carlotta, with all rights, should play the lead."

"But what about-"

"And Christine Daae shall play the silent part that she was assigned to."

"The ghost-"

"May not be happy, but we can't live in fear of him. Let's see his next move. If this gets any worse, we could always phone the police."

"And say _what_ exactly?" Andre demanded, "Hello? Oh, I'm sorry to bug you, but we have this ghost in the Opera House that keeps threatening us and slaughtering people. Would you please come over and try to hunt and shoot something that isn't there?"

Firmin stared at him. "Then you believe this nonsense? That it really _is _a ghost?"

"I see no other explanation." Andre snapped.

"Perhaps…" Firmin began to smile, "Why don't _we_ sit in box five? Then we'll know who this so-called ghost _really_ is…"

"Are you sure that's wise? What if-"

"What if what? He throws a noose around our necks and knocks us out of the box? My dear Andre, you aren't thinking clearly. Whoever this _ghost_ is, he needs managers. He can't kill us yet…he needs a replacement first."

"That makes me feel _so_ much better. Besides, who's to say that _he_ won't just take our jobs?"

"I can't see that going over very well with the performers, can you?"

Andre frowned thoughtfully. "I see your point…"

"Than it's decided. We'll sit in Box Five for the performance of Faust."

xxxxx

Christine and Meg stood together offstage, nervous. Faust was just about to begin.

They were both worried for difference reasons, though.

Meg's uneasiness was the kind that all performers got before going on the stage for their part.

Christine, however, hadn't even thought twice about that. She was concerned that Erik would be upset that she hadn't gotten the main part after all. What scared her more is that he'd be angry.

She peeked out of the curtain at Box Five and gasped, suddenly going white. She hurriedly drew back inside of the curtain, giving Meg a look that said quite clearly, _'We need to talk.'_

The two drew away from everyone else.

"What is it, Christine?" Meg asked quickly.

"Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin are sitting in Box Five!"

Meg paled. "Are they _mad_?!"

"I don't know- I just hope that Erik won't be."

The two friends stared at each other.

"You don't think he'll be _too_ upset…" Meg trailed off anxiously.

Christine didn't answer, thinking of Erik's temper.

Finally, it was time for Meg to go on stage.

"Be careful!" Christine called after her. Meg nodded and left, looking jumpy.

xxxxx

Erik peered around the curtains by the door to Box Five, watching Firmin and Andre with blazing eyes as they silently laughed at something happening in the play.

_How dare they…_

They had defied his orders. Christine was playing the silent role that should have been given to Carlotta. They _themselves_ were sitting in his box!

_How dare they!_

Erik averted his eyes from the two fools as Carlotta began to sing again. He winced- she looked atrocious in her overly-decorated costume, and sounded even worse.

He looked across the stage at Christine, who had a fixed smile on her face that looked more like a grimace. _She_ should have that part, not the Toad!

Erik seethed, cursing the managers. Suddenly, an idea struck him as he turned back to Carlotta.

_A toad indeed…_

xxxxx

Christine chanced a glance at Box Five again, where the managers were still laughing happily.

Carlotta was singing better (meaning worse…) than ever.

Christine began to relax. Perhaps Erik wouldn't get angry after all. But deep in her heart, she couldn't convince herself. She knew him better than that…

It was then that it happened. Carlotta was approaching a major part of the song when, out of no where, she croaked.

Not meaning that she died, unfortunately, but that she actually _croaked._

The crowds sat in shocked silence. Up in Box Five, the managers had stopped laughing.

'_No…'_ Christine thought, _'Erik, no…'_

xxxxx

Andre and Firmin couldn't believe it. Carlotta, their Prima Donna, had actually _croaked_.

"Keep singing!" Andre urged her.

Visibly frightened, Carlotta re-started the lines. She was fine for a little bit, but then…

_Croak._

It happened again…and then again…and then again. Carlotta, tears in her eyes, continued singing.

Firmin and Andre jumped as they heard a voice come from right behind them.

"_Listen to her! She's singing to bring down the chandelier!"_

With dread, the managers turned to see the chandelier shaking, getting more and more loose. The cable that held it up was being cut.

xxxxx

Christine watched in growing horror. Meg was now standing beside her, gazing up at the chandelier with everyone else.

No one really believed it was going to fall. It had been up there for generations.

No one except Christine, that is, who knew, or at least could guess, just what Erik was capable of.

It was about to drop…

Christine closed her eyes. Someone would die, she was sure. A chandelier that heavy couldn't fall and not harm anyone…

She couldn't bear to see Erik murder someone… not again, and certainly on purpose.

She opened her eyes at the last second, knowing what she had to do.

"Everyone get out of the way!" she cried as loudly as she could, "It's going to fall!"

Her voice seemed to jerk people to their senses. At the last moment, everyone ran out of the way.

The chandelier crashed into the seats and shattered.

There were a few scratches, bruises, and cuts…but no one was killed.

Christine stared at the ruins of the chandelier, then closed her eyes.

"_Oh Erik…what have you done?"_

(A/N: I wanted to call this chapter "When Carlotta Croaked" for fun, but sadly she didn't actually die. Lol, Thank you, please R&R!)


	12. Why, Erik?

(A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!)

**Chapter Twelve: Why, Erik?**

Christine ran back to her room at once, not wanting to face Meg.

Meg, however, wouldn't let her get away so easily. She followed her friend at a sprint.

"Christine! Christine, wait!"

At last, Christine stopped, knowing that she wouldn't get away. She didn't face Meg as she asked, "What is it?"

"You know what it is. What happened back there?! Someone could have been seriously hurt! Christine-"

Finally she turned, eyes slightly glassy. "I know Meg, I know, he's dangerous- you told me before!"

"And you didn't listen! Please, you're starting to worry me… If you see him again, I'll… I'll…" Meg floundered, "I'll tell someone about it!"

Christine flushed. "Meg, you can't! You promised me-"

"I promised you that _if you never talked to him again_ I wouldn't tell."

Christine just stared at her friend for a moment, stunned, and Meg stared back.

"Please, Christine… I'm just concerned. I don't want anything to happen to you- you're my best friend!"

"But Meg, I-" She trailed off, gazing helplessly at Meg.

Meg met her gaze stubbornly. "Just remember that, Christine- And I _will_ find out if you _do_ talk to him again, believe me!"

With that, she left.

Christine leaned against the door to her room, shocked at her friend's reaction. She wondered if Meg would really keep true to her word. Remembering her face, Christine knew that she would.

Christine went into her room, locking the door behind her. Hesitantly, she turned to face the floor-length mirror. After a moment, she walked over to her dresser and gave it a shove. Slowly but surely, she pushed the dresser in font of the mirror.

When she was finished, she surveyed her handiwork sadly. The trapdoor would never open again…

She crossed the room, then changed into her nightgown and got into bed.

xxxxx

Meg paced her room for a long time, anxious about Christine. She had been a bit harsh on her friend, and she really had no other excuse than that she was worried.

Finally, Meg decided she would go apologize when she was finished changing.

xxxxx

Christine couldn't sleep. She kept hearing _his_ voice over and over again in her mind, so gentle, so tender…

Christine blinked, then realized what she had been thinking and blushed furiously. Why was she thinking of him now? Meg was right; he _was_ dangerous, so why did she still want to see him?

Christine rolled over, knowing that she wouldn't sleep until she talked to him again.

Making up her mind at last, she stood and shrugged her robe on, then went over to the dresser and shoved it out of the way.

Taking a deep breath, she flicked open the catch to the trapdoor and walked determinedly into the darkness beyond.

xxxxx

Meg was just finished changing when there was a sharp knock on her door. After a moment, her mother entered.

"Meg, dear, I wanted to talk to you about-"

Meg braced herself.

"-the dancing in the last scene."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "But mother, I have to talk to-"

"I don't care, it can wait. Besides, I also want to talk to you about your friend, Christine."

Meg went white. "I don't know anything!"

Madame Giry raised her eyebrows, "Anything about what? I haven't asked my question yet."

Meg gulped.

xxxxx

Christine walked slowly through the darkness for what seemed like ages. Her hands were pressed against the cool wall so that she could feel her way down.

Abruptly, the wall ended, and Christine continued until she stepped in something freezing cold and wet.

For a moment she stood still, confused, until she realized she had forgotten something very, very important.

"The lake…" she whispered, wanting to smack herself. "How am I going to get across the lake?"

Last time there was a boat, but that would be on the opposite shore by now.

She paced, wondering what to do. It was times like these that she wished she had learned how to swim.

After a moment, she realized that she had two options. She could either make her way back to her room, or she could do something she considered utterly desperate.

Christine stood in silence once more. She knew that she couldn't go back, not when she had gotten this far…

She took a deep breath, and then shouted his name as loud as she could across the lake, hoping he could hear her.

xxxxx

Erik stopped scribbling down notes for _Don Juan _and looked up. Usually, the only sound he could hear was the scratching of his quill, but he thought he'd heard…

After a moment he shook his head. It was wishful thinking.

Then he heard it again. Someone was calling his name…someone he knew.

Erik stood and dropped his quill, hardly daring to hope.

"_Christine?"_

xxxxx

Christine opened her mouth to try again, but a cool hand clasped over it.

"Hush, my dear, you'll harm your voice."

Christine stiffened for a moment, then recognized the voice and relaxed. "Erik."

There was a moment's pause, and then he spoke again. "Why did you come here, Christine?"

Christine turned to face him, "Because, I want to know… I want to know…" she stuttered, "…_Why_, Erik? Why did you do it?"

Erik just stared at her for a moment, one hand twirling one of her soft brown curls. She could see his golden eyes glittering in the darkness.

"Erik…"

"I lost my temper."

"You _lost your temper_?!" Christine demanded, "Erik, you could have _killed _someone! Losing your temper isn't an excuse!"

Erik paused, and then shrugged.

Christine stared at him incredulously. "You mean you wouldn't have cared if someone _had_ died?" she drew back from him. "What if that someone had been me? Would you have cared then?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Christine, I-"

"Well just imagine that the person who died had someone who loved them, they'd feel the same way!"

There was a long silence, and Christine blushed. Her words echoed back to her… _"…someone who loved them…"_

Her blush grew deeper. She sounded as if she had just assumed that he loved her…

"I…I mean…" her face was growing warmer by the second, "Erik…please, _please_ don't try to kill anyone again! Promise me…"

Erik moved closer to her, then hesitantly placed a hand under her chin, lifting her face up to his. "Christine…Do you love me?"

Christine froze, staring at him. How could she answer without hurting him? After all, she didn't love him…

A shiver went through her as she looked up into his eyes. _…Did she?..._

Without even realizing she did it, her arms flew up around his neck, and she buried her face in his chest. "Oh, Erik… I don't know…" she squeaked out truthfully. "I don't know…"

His hand stroked her hair as he stared of into the darkness, thinking. He was jerked back into reality at the sound of her voice.

"But Erik?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"Please… _please_ promise me."

"I promise, Christine… I promise…"

xxxxx

When Meg had finally assured her mother that there was nothing wrong, she ran down to Christine's room to apologize for her behavior.

When she tapped on the door, however, there was no answer.

"Christine?" Meg called softly, wondering if her friend was asleep. After a moment's pause, the ballet girl pushed open the door.

Christine wasn't there.

Meg's eyes scanned the room frantically, searching for any sign of her friend.

It was then that she noticed something strange.

There was a dark crack between the mirror and the wall. Meg moved closer to investigate, and pushed the mirror further out.

It swung open as if on hinges.

Meg's heart skipped a beat. '_It's a trap do_or,' she realized suddenly, _'So _this_ is how Erik and Christine stay in contact…'_

Meg looked into the passageway beyond and shivered. She couldn't go in there… she couldn't, but she had to.

Meg stepped into the darkness, and her eyes quickly adjusted. Unlike Christine, she had no qualms about it being dark. Her only fear was what lay on the other end.

Finally, the wall that she had been leaning on ended.

Thinking she was alone, Meg took another step.

Suddenly, she stopped. She wasn't alone, after all. Not too far away, she could just make out two figures.

Meg backed up quickly and squinted.

Her eyes widened as she recognized one of them. It was Christine, and she had her arms around a tall man in dark clothing and a mask. Meg gasped… she knew at once who this was.

Erik looked quickly at the entrance to the tunnel as he heard her gasp.

"Erik? What is it?" Meg heard Christine ask.

"There's someone there…" he had a soft, musical voice, with just a hint of menace at the thought of someone spying on him.

Meg shivered, frozen to the spot.

Christine looked around to the entrance and, even through the darkness, locked eyes with her friend.

Meg turned and ran blindly back up through the passage.

She could hear Christine shout, "Meg! Meg, wait!" but she didn't stop running.

She had to tell someone… If she didn't, Christine would get hurt.

There was a small gasp from somewhere behind her as Christine, who had been chasing after her, tripped and fell. "Meg, please, don't say anything! Let me explain!"

Meg kept running. Finally, she reached the trap door and ran out, not even pausing to close it behind her. She knew exactly what she had to do…

xxxxx

Christine cried out as she fell for the third time. This time, however, she didn't get back up. She knew that Meg was too far ahead of her…she'd never catch up.

Two tears ran down her cheeks as she stared blankly at her bloodied hands. Who would Meg tell? What would they do? Most importantly… What would happen to Erik?

Christine bit her lip. She knew what would happen. Meg now knew that the mirror was a trap door. She could lead them right to his home…

She shivered… _And if they found Erik, they'd kill him…_

(A/N: Well, that was a nice long chapter, wasn't it?)


	13. Meg's Dilemma

(A/N: Lol, wow, it took longer than usual this time! Sorry about the little bit of wait, this weekend has been busy. Welcome Mystery Guest, I'm glad that you like my story!)

**Chapter Thirteen: Meg's Dilemma**

Out of breath, Meg stopped outside one of the manager's rooms before knocking.

When they opened the door curiously, she fell inside, panting.

"Monsieur…Firmin… It's my friend, Christine, she… she…" Meg trailed off, trying to recollect her thoughts

'_What am I doing?!'_ she thought frantically- Christine would hate her forever if she told anyone about Erik! She couldn't break her promise!

'_She broke her end of the promise first…'_ Meg tried to reassure herself, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Firmin. _'I should talk to Christine first…'_

"What do you want?" Firmin asked irritably. "What's wrong with your friend? Hurry up, I don't have all night, you know."

Meg stood frozen to the spot, spluttering. "She… she…"

"She hurt herself… It's not bad, admittedly, but she's bleeding." Madame Giry stepped into the room behind her daughter. "Meg hates blood. I'm afraid she freaked out somewhat. We were wondering where you kept the bandages."

Firmin snorted derisively. "In the closet on the first floor. I would think _you_ knew that by now. Get your daughter out of here, and leave me alone."

Madame Giry nodded, taking a dazed Meg by the shoulder and leading her out.

xxxxx

"What were you _doing_?" Madame Giry demanded when they were out of earshot. "Do you have _any_ idea what the Phantom would do to you if you told?!"

Meg blinked up at her, frowning. "You know about Christine?"

"Of course I know! I hear things, I see things. What I didn't know was that my daughter was so atrociously stupid."

"But you asked me… I thought that you were trying to find out about it… I thought…"

"I was trying to figure out if _you_ knew. Now, how did you find out? What happened?"

"Christine told me." Meg admitted.

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"I see. You were only going to tell now? What happened that made you run to the managers like that?"

Meg explained about how she had gone to see Christine, and then found the mirror open. She told her mother about the dark passage way, and what she had found on the other end.

Madame Giry listened, her face growing paler by the minute. When Meg was finished, she took her shoulders and shook her. "You stupid, stupid girl! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"  
Meg frowned. "I didn't do anything. You stopped me from-"

"Because of your foolish actions, the Phantom now knows that you know about Christine. He also knows that you know at least one way to his lair. He doesn't take kindly to spies, my dear... How good is your friendship with Christine?"

"Good… why?"

"Then you'd better hope she speaks up in your favor. I'm afraid you're at the Phantom's mercy, now… and it is limited, I assure you."

xxxxx

Christine felt a hand on her shoulder as she sat there in the darkness.

"Erik?" she whispered softly.

"Who was that?"

"My friend, Meg Giry. She must have come to visit me in my room, and… I must have accidentally left the mirror open…"

"I see. Meg Giry, is it? The dancer…"

"Yes, but-"

"I'm afraid she's about to have an unfortunate accident…"

"Erik, no!" Christine jumped to her feet. "No, she's my best friend, she didn't mean any harm! Besides, you promised me!"

Erik's eyes glittered. "I rarely keep my promises. That means nothing."

Christine winced as if struck, and backed away from him. "How _dare_ you! You know, Erik, I _don't _think I love you. I couldn't love a liar… a murderer!" she turned and began to run back through the passageway, but only got so far before falling once more.

"Christine-" Erik stood stock still in the darkness, hurt and confused. In just a few short moments he had gone from unbelievably happy, to angry, to upset. "Christine, please, I didn't think…" he moved to help her up, but she got to her feet by herself.

"That's the problem Erik, you _don't_ think! If you really thought things through instead of losing your temper, maybe you would be happier. Until then, I don't want to have anything to do with you!"

Before she could leave, Erik grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. "Christine, please…"

He looked pleadingly into her eyes, and she stared coldly back.

"I won't harm your friend."

Christine didn't say anything, still staring up at him, waiting.

"And I… will try to _think_ before I lose my temper."

"Really…do you promise?"

Erik frowned, wondering at her tone. "I promise."

"Well, that certainly means a lot then, doesn't it?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but she went on.

"After all, a few moments ago, you told me that your promise meant nothing! How can I believe you, now? How can I _trust_ you?"

Erik stepped closer and smoothed her hair, looking deep into her eyes. "Because… because I love you, Christine." There, he had said it. "Please… give me one more chance."

Christine looked up at him, biting her lip. She stroked the side of his face that wasn't deformed, then stood on tiptoe and whispered into his ear.

"One more chance Erik. This time, don't let me down. I _want_ to be able to trust you."

Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek and fled, being more careful then ever not to fall.

Erik stood in the darkness once more, surprised and pleased. He placed a hand on the place where, a moment ago, Christine's lips had been.

"I won't let you down this time, Christine," he whispered to the night, "I won't…"

(A/N: It's pretty short, but I'm still pressed for time. I'm sorry! I'll try to make the next chapter longer.)


	14. Trust in Me

(A/N: Wow, it's been so long since I updated last! I'm really, really sorry about that, but at least you didn't have to wait as long as the people who read my other fanfic, The Lord of Dragonlance… I just finished updating it, because I realized I hadn't before since the 23 of November.)

Chapter Fourteen: Trust in Me 

Next morning

Christine sat at her desk, absent-mindedly brushing her hair. She jumped as there was a knock on her door.

"Come in!" she called.

Meg quickly opened the door and hurried in, closing it behind her.

"Oh, Christine, I'm so sorry!" she cried, "I didn't tell anyone, I promise. Mother found out and stopped me, but still, I shouldn't have even been spying on you in the first place, and-"

"Meg, Meg, stop! I can't understand a word you're saying. What happened? What was that about Madame Giry?"

"Mother knows pretty much everything about the Phantom, so it turns out that she knew about all of this before I did… except that she kept a cooler head, of course." Meg flushed. "I'm sorry, Christine, I lost my mind for a moment when I saw you with him. I was just so worried that you were going to get hurt, and-"

Abruptly Christine remembered the events of last night. She had all but forgotten that Meg had run off to tell someone about Erik.

She suddenly panicked. "Meg- You didn't tell anyone, did you?! What are they going to do? What if they hurt Er-"

"I didn't tell anyone." Meg reassured her quickly. "Like I said, mother stopped me."

Relief rushed through Christine's body, and she sighed. "Oh. Okay, then."

"But Christine…" Meg broke off, unsure of what to say next. "Christine… it doesn't stop me from worrying. And I hold true to my promise- if he does _anything_ to hurt you, I'm going straight to the managers, no matter _what_ he does to me afterward."

Christine smiled faintly. "He won't hurt you ever, Meg, he promised me, and I at least _hope_ that he meant it."

Meg nodded. "Does…Does he love you?"

Christine smile widened a little bit, and a blush appeared on her cheeks. "He says he does."

"And you love him?" Meg waited, hoping that her friend had realized her emotions by now.

Christine paused for a moment, staring straight ahead as if thinking, or remembering. After a moment, she looked down at her lap and whispered, "I do."

xxxxx

Erik's eyes widened as he heard Christine's whisper from the other side of the mirror. _She loved him._

He fell to his knees, unable to believe what he'd just heard. _She loved him…_

He shuddered and drew his cloak closer, wondering how such a beautiful, talented girl could love such a _monster_ like him.

To think that just last night he had betrayed her trust— he had almost ruined everything. He found himself disbelieving that she could trust him again.

"_Christine…" _he whispered faintly, shivering, _"Oh Christine…"_

xxxxx

Meg paused at the door as she was about to leave. She had thought that, just for a moment, she had heard something…

Her eyes traveled to the mirror, then back to her friend's face.

She could tell just at a glance that Christine had heard it, too.

"Meg…" Christine stood, pushing her chair aside.

Meg nodded, knowing that her friend wanted her to leave.

With one last glance at the mirror, she stepped outside and shut the door.

xxxxx

Erik quickly hid in the shadows as the mirror opened.

"Erik?" Christine's soft voice echoed through the darkness. "Erik, are you here?"

He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't dare breath. _What if she was angry with him for spying on her again?_

Christine stood there for a moment, trying to see through the darkness. At last, she gave up, a look of disappointment in her eyes.

One last time, she tried calling his name. "Erik?"

He closed his eyes, confused. Did she _want_ him to be here? She certainly didn't sound angry…

He wanted to be closer to her, wanted to speak with her, but he couldn't move for fear she would be upset that he was there.

The two emotions fought as she began to close the mirror, and a faint moan escaped his lips.

Christine froze, then opened the mirror wider. "Erik, you are here, aren't you? Why won't you answer me?"

When he didn't answer, she stepped into the passageway, feeling around blindly for him.

He tried to move away, but found he couldn't.

After a few moments, one of her outstretched hands brushed against his arm, and she turned to him.

"Erik…" her hand traveled up his arm and found his shoulder, and then threw her arms around him.

"Erik, are you angry with me? Why didn't you answer?"

"I-I couldn't." he choked out, unable to say more.

Her head rested against his chest, and without even thinking, he reached out and stroked her hair.

"How long were you out here? Did you hear…" Christine trailed off, hesitating.

Erik's hand trembled as it continued its path down her hair, and he whispered, "You couldn't have meant it. You can't love me."

Christine looked up at him, careful not to loosen her hold on him any more.

"Why not?" she demanded, her heart in her eyes.

Erik blinked, taken aback. He had expected her to admit that it was true; she _didn't_ love him, and only had said so to get her friend off her back. At the very least he had expected her to protest childishly that yes, she _did_ love him, therefore proving that she did not, and had only convinced herself that she had.

He had been prepared to answer her had she said anything like that.

He hadn't been prepared for this. She looked up at him sincerely, waiting for his answer.

And he didn't have one.

After a long silence, she smiled triumphantly, then stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips.

Erik completely froze, unsure of what to do. He was afraid to kiss her back, but couldn't back out of her embrace because he was smashed against the wall.

After a moment, she backed away, giving him space to breath, but not letting go of him entirely.

For a while he stood in raw shock, unable to do anything but stare at her. Finally, he managed to murmur hoarsely, "What of last night? I thought you were angry with me…"

She stroked his cheek and shook her head, "I wasn't angry, I was upset."

"Is there a difference?"

"There is. Erik, I love you. I've finally realized that I have for a while, and Meg was right. But that doesn't stop me from being upset with you when you do something wrong. Sometimes…" she faltered, "Sometimes I wonder if you know the difference between right and wrong. I-"

She broke off as there was a faint tapping noise from her room. "Someone's knocking on the door… I'd better go. But Erik, think about what I said. Trust in me, and try to do what is right."

The tapping noise got louder, and Christine stepped away from him. "Goodbye, Erik."

Then she hurried out of the passageway, shutting the mirror securely behind her.

(A/N: Okay, so I know it was a little cliché, but I couldn't do any better. Tell me what you think!)


	15. The Threat

(A/N: Once again, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. I'll try to update sooner next time, because this one is a bit of a cliffhanger.

Lol, and you thought the troubles were over…

Not even! Why, the story has hardly begun! ;) And after all, I'm sure you're all just _dying_ to know what happened to Carlotta over the past few days…)

**Chapter Fifteen: The Threat**

Christine hesitated before walking carefully over to the door.

When she opened it, however, she found that there was no one there—instead, a note was laying on the ground, addressed to her.

Curiously, Christine bent down and picked it up.

She went white as she read it.

_Miss Daae:_

_I know what you've been up to, and I know your little scheme. Be assured that you will not get away with it._

_Your precious little 'Opera Ghost' will soon be found and killed, and your career as a diva will diminish. _

_You may not be able to save him, but you may yet save yourself. Come and meet me immediately. If you tell the police all you know about him, perhaps they will let you off easier. _

_La Carlotta_

Christine's hand trembled, causing her to drop the note. Carlotta knew about Erik? How?

Meg…

No. Christine shook her head—Meg wouldn't have betrayed her to _that _woman. Madame Giry?

Christine was pretty sure that Madame Giry wouldn't have anything to do with the prima donna.

Then how had she found out? Certainly the woman was not clever enough to find out by herself. Perhaps she was just guessing?

Christine knew that couldn't be true. Carlotta had to have discovered something. She felt a dreadful sinking feeling as she realized that Carlotta could very well have been smart enough—or lucky enough—to have found something out if she was worried that her career would be damaged by it.

Drat the woman! All she cared about was herself.

"Erik…" Christine took a deep breath. Could the prima donna truly have gotten the police to come investigate?

'_Of course she could have…'_ Christine realized in horror, _'They think he killed Joseph Buquet… and he could have killed someone with the chandelier…'_

Christine knew she had to do something. Erik couldn't live in secret forever—he would be found out eventually.  
Besides that, the officers might be able to worm something out of Meg, who Christine was sure was still uneasy about the whole subject.

No, she had to stop this now.

Christine crumpled up the note and threw it into her desk drawer, before tearing out of the door and making toward Carlotta's room.

xxxxx

Erik had stepped cautiously and quietly out of the mirror as Christine was reading the note with her back turned to him.

He had slipped behind her dresser as she had thrown whatever she was reading into her desk and ran out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, he had come out of hiding.

Now he stood in the empty room, staring curiously at her desk drawer. What had she read that was so important that she had to leave so quickly?

He reached for her drawer, and then stopped. He had no right to invade her privacy.

No… he shook it off. He needed to know what was wrong. Perhaps something had happened that she was upset about…

Quickly, he opened the drawer and found what he was looking for.

Erik delicately picked up the crumpled piece of parchment, and unfolded it.

As he read the note, his eyes widened in shock.

That terrible excuse for a woman—that toad!—had found out about him? How? And where had Christine gone?

He went cold as realization flooded him.

She had gone to betray him.

She was going to tell the police everything about him. Perhaps she had even been working with Carlotta the whole time!

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No, that wasn't like Christine. She didn't even like Carlotta. Besides, the note even denied that… Carlotta had been threatening her, as well.

But, perhaps, Christine had realized at last that she _didn't_ really love him, and that he was a monster, and now she was going to make sure he was destroyed…

Erik shuddered. He wasn't thinking straight, and he knew it. It wouldn't be long before he lost his temper with Carlotta, who, he was convinced, had turned Christine against him at last.

Dropping the paper on the floor, he fled back through the mirror and into the darkness once more…

xxxxx

"So you know nothing?" the officer pressed.

Christine shook her head, eyes wide. "No, monsieur, I don't know anything about the opera ghost. After all, he isn't even real!"

"Isn't even real?"

"I mean, it's quite obvious that Monsieur Buquet slipped up in the flies, and some ballet girl decided to blame it on the opera ghost. You know how they are around here- they'd do anything for a good bit of gossip! And that chandelier…well, it probably just wasn't hooked up right."

Carlotta glared at Christine as she talked, but said nothing.

"So you're sure you don't know any bit of useful information?" the man asked, "La Carlotta claims she saw you with the so-called 'Phantom.' She's convinced that you're an accomplice, so that he can help you further your career."

Christine shrugged innocently. "Perhaps she was seeing things. You know, it gets really hot on stage. She could have been delusional. And as for me furthering my career…well…" Christine leaned in conspiratorially to the officer and whispered, "You know how Prima Donnas are… she's probably feeling unstable in her position, and doesn't want anyone to get in the way. Personally, I don't think that I'd have a chance, even if I did have a spirit's help!"

The officer nodded. He looked tired, and it was quite obvious he believed Christine. He was no fan of Carlotta's.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Miss Daae. If you find anything out, please contact us."

Christine nodded, and the man left.

"So!" Carlotta snapped as soon as he was gone, "Delusional, am I? You don't tink I vill fall for zat one! No… I trust my eyes, and I know wut I saw!"

"What _did_ you see?" Christine asked, partly curious, partly anxious.

"You and zat…zat…_man_ together." Carlotta announced.

Christine frowned. "Oh, really? Where, exactly?" She couldn't remember going anywhere with Erik before…

"Vell…I 'aven't exactly _zeen_ you, but I've 'eard you together! In your dressing room, _plotting._"

Christine's eyes flew open in shock. This woman had been _spying_ on her!

"Carlotta, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken—"

"Ereek! Oh Ereek, thank you _zo_ much for teaching me, Ereek!" Carlotta mimicked, though rather poorly.

Christine went white. "You dreadful woman! Leave me alone, I'm not plotting against you!"

"Ve'll see about _that_!" Carlotta cried.

Christine glared at her, then ran from the room, leaving Carlotta sitting along, smiling smugly.

xxxxx

Erik sat in a passage close to Carlotta's room, hearing the voices, but unable to understand the conversation.

He could hear Christine talking to a man who must have been an officer, and every once in a while he could hear Carlotta's thickly accented voice interrupt them.

He sat in dark and gloom, waiting.

He ran his fingers over the Punjab lasso in his hand, anger coursing through him. He may be found out soon, but he would have his revenge first. He would take care of the woman he felt was responsible for all of his happiness being ripped away from him.

Quietly he sat in the darkness, waiting until Carlotta was alone…

(A/N: And you thought it was all over…

Lol, I know, it's not a very good place to end, is it? Ah, well…)


	16. A Decision Made

(A/N: I decided to respond to everyone, because I haven't done so for a while. This may be long, so bear with me.

**draegon-fire** Well, she did a lot of spying, (as you'll find out), but she came to her own conclusions, as well… And, as usual, they're wrong.

**erik'sangel527** Wow, thank you! Welcome to my fanfic. ;)

**Aislin of the Shadows** Hey! I'm glad you caught up with this. Yes, I have other fanfics, but as you probably found out, they're not in this category. Well, except for the poems. But thanks!

And noooooooo….I just found out that you read Kara's story! Shoot…I was always wondering what would happen if one of my reviewers found out what I was really like… ((sighs)) Oh well… So you think I'm insane…who cares… A lot of people think I'm insane…

**pandagal** Muahahahahaha… oh, the joy of the cliffhanger. If you liked that cliffy, just wait until you read this one! Cheers. :)

**Noemy009**Hello! Wow, you're French? That's really neat! I don't think I can use French phrases in this, though. I would end up confusing myself, lol. Thanks so much for the offer, though… and if I ever do need one, I'll ask.

**AshleytheStrange** Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed this. I hope you like this cliffhanger as well. ((smiles innocently))

**fell4adeadguy** Thanks for reviewing! :)

**Dalamar Nightson: ** (For chapter five) I meant to repeat the part about the bassoon player. Erik was re-tracing his thoughts. (For chapter six) I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for reading my story, it's really nice to have someone from The Lord of Dragonlance over here reading this. :)

**Kianra: **Darn you!!!!!

**Kaya DC Pandora**Thank you so much! Here's the next chapter. :)

**Chapter Sixteen: A Decision Made**

Erik waited until the footsteps had faded away. He could hear Carlotta move about her room, probably getting ready for rehearsals.

He smiled in the darkness, gathering up his lasso. Which way should he enter?

Erik crept through the passageway until he was a little bit further from her room, where there was a trapdoor to the hallway outside her door…

xxxxx

Carlotta turned quickly as she heard her door open. She was thinking that perhaps Christine had come back to admit something, but there was no one there.

Frowning, she turned back to her mirror and preened herself. She had been trying to decide what outfit was right to wear to seduce some officer into believing her part of the story.

Just when she had found one that was low enough, she saw a shadow move behind her, reflected in her mirror.

Carlotta cried out, but by that time the noose was already around her neck.

xxxxx

Erik froze.

Carlotta stood stock still, eyes wide. She was too frightened to even move.

'_She should be dead by now.' _Erik thought angrily to himself, _'Why haven't I killed her yet?'_

All he had to do was jerk on the end of the noose, and her neck would snap. Just that tiny, little motion…

He couldn't bring himself to do it. Reflected in Carlotta's frightened eyes, he saw Christine.

_Christine..._ What would she think of him? Then he would truly be a murderer. She would have every right to despise him.

"Christine…" he whispered aloud, eyes closing.

Carlotta whimpered when he moved closer to her, thinking that he was going to kill her.

She squeezed her eyes closed as she felt his hands around her neck, wondering if he was going to strangle her, instead.

Erik trembled, then removed the noose and fled into the shadows.

Carlotta fainted.

xxxxx

"Eet wus 'orrible, officer! He wus dressed all een black, with a mask covering half of 'is face! 'Is 'ands were cold as _death_. Ee tried to _kill_ me, officer! Ee 'ad dis…dis _rope_ around my neck, and ee 'ad begun to tighten it. But you zee, officer, ee 'adn't counted on _mee._ I 'ave never been slow to react, you zee. I threw 'is leetle rope off of my neck," (Carlotta demonstrated the motion), "and I flung eet back at 'im. Ee wasn't prepared for _that_, and ee ran away."

Carlotta finished telling her tale, and looked dramatically around at her audience.

The ballet girls were impressed that Carlotta had the courage to face down the dreaded opera ghost.

The managers looked concerned that their prima donna had been hurt in any way, and a little bit angry at the Phantom for trying to kill her.

The police officer's face held no expression as he jotted down her words. (The officer, though he didn't look it, had a sense of humor—he wrote down everything _exactly_ as she said it.)

Carlotta glanced gloatingly over to where Christine stood, with some little ballet rat beside her.

Her face was pale, and her eyes clouded.

Carlotta's smile grew. She would win this, yet.

xxxxx

Christine couldn't believe that Erik would do that, not after she had talked to him.

She felt sick and betrayed.

Bidding goodbye to Meg, she left the crowd and made for her room. She needed to be alone.

Meg stared worriedly after her, chewing her lip, eyes distant as if she was debating something. Finally she seemed to come to a decision, for she nodded, then left in the opposite direction.

xxxxx

Christine collapsed on her bed, eyes filling with tears.

She wiped them away furiously. Maybe he _hadn't_ tried to murder Carlotta. After all, though Carlotta's description seemed thorough, she couldn't imagine him being scared away by the diva.

Besides that, he wouldn't just suddenly decide to kill her! He would have had some kind of motive, if he had tried to.

Feeling slightly better, Christine leaned back… and spotted the crumpled note on the floor.

Her breath caught as she bent down and picked it up.

Right away, she could tell that Erik had read it. After all, hadn't she left it inside of her desk?

Christine frowned. This could very well have been his motive. Upon learning that Carlotta knew about him and Christine, he could have lost his temper and tried to rid the Opera House of the prima donna.

Half-way through the letter, Christine stopped and shook her head. It didn't make sense. He would have said _something_ to her first, wouldn't he have?

Christine finished the last line of the note and paled.

She remembered, in some distant corner of her memory, a flash of a black cloak behind her dresser as she had been reading the note. At the time, she had dismissed it, because she had other things to worry about…

Then she had run out of the door, and Erik had read the note…

Christine's world spun, and she leaned against her bed post for support.

_He thought she had betrayed him…_

xxxxx

Carlotta all but skipped back to her room. She was in a merry mood.

Christine was upset, the 'Phantom' was all but condemned, and everyone believed _her_.

Soon, if things went her way, they would find out where this "Opera Ghost" lived, and then hunt him out and destroy him.

Carlotta reached her room and flung open the door. (She had almost convinced herself that she _had_ scared away the Phantom, and therefore wasn't too afraid that he would come back).

As she made her way over to the vanity, though, something caught her eye.

There was a small scrap of paper on her bed, and a note on it written in a shaky hand, and smeared in several places.

_La Carlotta—_

_Christine is not the only one who knows the way to the Phantom's lair. _

_Please meet me tomorrow morning on the roof, and I can tell you how to find it._

Carlotta stared for a moment, delighted with her good luck. The note was anonymous, but that didn't matter.

Soon, she would know how to find this cursed Phantom, who seemed to so dearly want to destroy her career, and then she would lead the police to him, and he would die.

Carlotta could have danced.

(A/N: Lol, well, it's not too much of a cliffhanger, is it? At least it's no where near as bad as last time's… )


	17. To Betray a Friend

(A/N: Hello everyone! At least the wait wasn't _too_ long this time! :)

**Chapter Seventeen: To Betray a Friend**

Christine just stood in her dressing room for a while, wondering what to do with the mess that had become of everything.

After a while, she realized there was only one thing to do.

She had to know Erik's side of the story.

After all, she didn't quite believe Carlotta's tale of her bravery, but nor did she doubt that Erik had indeed tried to kill her.

_So what had stopped him?_

Christine turned to the mirror and took a deep breath.

_Down once more…_

She reached out and found the catch, then opened the trap door. Then she fell blindly into the passageway beyond it.

xxxxx

A figure paced the rooftops, a whirl of confusion inside their head.

Meg didn't want to betray her friend. She couldn't…and yet she had to. It was for Christine's own good, after all—the man was a murderer! Nothing good could come of him.

The ballet girl shivered and drew her cloak closer. _What should she do?! _Carlotta would be there any minute.

Meg's face twisted in disgust. She still couldn't believe that she was betraying her friend to that _woman_. But yet, it was the only way. No one would listen to her, except for Carlotta—and only her because she wanted the Phantom dead.

Meg felt something wet trickle down her face, and she brushed her tears away. She didn't care for the man, but yet she knew it was the man that Christine loved, and she hated to cause her friend pain.

_She'll go through more if we don't do something about him now._

Meg then resolutely pushed all thoughts of her friend from her mind, and refused to think about the future.

There was only here, and now. She would tell Carlotta how to find that…that…_demon_, and then it would all be over. Christine need never know that Meg betrayed her.

Meg bit back a sob, chewing on her lip until it bled.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of crunching stone behind her, and she turned, expecting to see Carlotta standing there.

Instead, there was no one.

Meg blinked in confusion. She _knew_ she had heard something…

Suddenly a rough hand closed over her mouth, muffling her scream.

xxxxx

Christine knew she had reached the lake when she accidentally slipped and half fell into it.

Now freezing and wet, she sat at the banks of the great body of water, debating what to do now.

She wouldn't call to him this time. She couldn't, even if she had wanted to, because her throat was dry with worry.

Christine sat in the cold and strained her eyes and her ears, looking for any sign of his house across the lake, and listening for any music.

There was nothing but dead silence and darkness.

There was only one explanation for that—Erik was not at home.

Christine shivered now, wondering where he could be. She hoped to God that he wasn't in any trouble.

"Oh, Erik…I should have explained…" she whispered, choking. This was all her fault. If only she had stayed behind for a moment, just to go back to Erik and explain to him what was going on…

Christine sat on the chilly, hard stone floor and gathered her cloak around her. She would sit here and wait for him if it killed her.

xxxxx

Carlotta emerged onto the shadowy roof, peering around at the statues. She was searching for any sign of a person, but she saw nothing.

" 'Ello? I am 'ere to get zome information. Ees anyone 'ere?"

Suddenly a tall figure emerged out of the darkness, cloaked and hooded so that she could not see their face. It took a step towards her.

Carlotta took a step back. "'Ello? Oo are you?"

"That is not of your concern." The speaker was obviously a male, "It is time for you to go." He took another step closer.

Carlotta took another step backwards. "Go? But I just got 'ere!"

"The information you came for and the person who carried it is gone. Now it is time for you to leave as well."

"I vill _not_ leave until I know! Oo are you?" Carlotta demanded, sweating a little, but not to be put down.

The man sighed and pulled back his hood. He was about to say something, but the Prima Donna rudely interrupted him.

"And wut, pray tell, ees a _Persian_ doing in France?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "What is a Spaniard doing in France, my lady?"

Carlotta wasn't sure how to respond to this, so she chose a different angle.

"Wut ees your name?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nadir. I come and watch the opera sometimes. Now, I am here to tell you that you have been deceived. The lady who was here with your 'information' wished for nothing more than to trick you."

"Trick _mee_?!" Carlotta exclaimed, swelling with rage at the thought. "How _dare _she! I shall find them, and they will regret it!"

The Persian smiled. "Yes, my lady, but for now I suggest you go back to your room—before you make an even bigger fool of yourself."

Carlotta shot him a withering glance, then turned on her heal and stalked away.

When Nadir was quite sure she was gone, he turned back to the shadows beneath a very large statue.

"I am sorry, miss, but I could not let you betray my friend." He bent down and took the gag out of Meg's mouth, then untied her hands and feet. "I assure you, I meant no harm."

Meg eyed him suspiciously. "Your _friend_? Surely you don't mean that…_creature._"

Nadir smiled sadly at her. "Indeed I do. But perhaps, miss, you shouldn't be so quick to judge him."

Meg opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again and nodded. "Fine then, but Christine is my friend, and he'd better not harm her."

"I think he'd die before he harmed her." Nadir whispered softly. "I haven't talked to my friend in a good while, but I've watched him from afar. I think… he may truly love her."

Meg hung her head. "And she loves him. But I don't understand—"

Nadir stopped her and smiled. "Sometimes love is a thing that _no one_ can understand, Meg. It shines in the darkest corners of us all."

The ballet girl sighed, then looked back up at the man. She only had one more question.

"So what do we do now?"

xxxxx

A few hours later, Erik crept down the passageways to the lake. He had been sitting in the dark places beyond the trap doors, trying to sort out his emotions.

Finally, when he was starting to get cold and his head was beginning to hurt, he had decided to go home.

On his way to the boat, however, he stumbled over something in the darkness.

Erik cursed, then leaned over to examine what it was.

His heart stopped.

Lying spread-eagled on the shores of the lake was a woman, and she didn't seem to be breathing. Her long, brown curls were spread out over the rocky ground, and her eyes were closed.

Erik quickly knelt and stroked her cheek.

She was cold.

Erik closed his eyes, a strangled moan escaping his lips. How long had Christine been down here, in the dark and cold? Her fingertips and lips were beginning to turn blue, and she was deathly pale.

Quickly, Erik gathered her up in his arms, laying her gently in the boat. Then he climbed into the craft behind her, and pushed off from the shore, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Oh, Christine…_why…_"

(A/N: 0:) I guess you'll just have to wait until the next chapter to find out what happens. I hope I can update before Friday, because then I'll be gone for the entire weekend, and you'll be left here with no idea what will happen! Now, I couldn't do that, could I? ((smiles evilly))


	18. Awakening

(A/N: Well, all I can say is, we all got lucky. I was supposed to leave tonight, but we changed it so that we're leaving early tomorrow morning. Now please stick with me as I respond to each and every reviewer. ((Takes a deep breath))

Aislin of the Shadows: Lol, that would be terrible! And yes, you were supposed to kind of think it was Erik… at least I managed to trick someone! ((beams))

Fell4adeadguy: Yes, it is getting repetitive, isn't it? Lol.

Rosakara13: You have to find out! :)

ButterflyOfLothlorien: Yeah, I know… that is a bit disappointing… I'm still wondering if I could have her sing good, and then die of shock… hmmm…

Ceez: Wow, thanks for all of the tips! I'll try to work on the tense, though I'm not sure I know how to.

Noemy009: I'll try to make this chapter especially long! :)

Kaya DC Pandora: Lol, unfortunately, I won't make you wait in suspence. Maybe.

SummerSong: Actually, that part made me laugh a little when I wrote it, too. Probably because I could see myself tripping and falling into the lake…

pandagal: I'm glad you're so excited about my story! :D

AshleytheStrange: Well, part of the reason is that she fell into the lake… and _then_ had to sit in the cold for hours and hours… and yes, it's cold down there. Very cold.

LifesVictory: Lol, I think it's improved, too. Thank you so much for the comments!

Ladystrider77: I'm updating right now. Well, actually, by the time you read this, I've already updated…

Angelic Lawyer: (Lol, love your name, by the way!) Don't worry about it, you've only missed two! :) I'm glad you liked that chapter.

Phantomraver: Updating!!! Updating NOW! :D

Dalamar Nightson: Yes, your nice little bribe helped. I'm holding you to your word, too… You'd better update in the next week or so. Or else! ((waves Punjab lasso threateningly)) And actually, yes, Nadir was named in the book.

The Cure: Thank you! I'm glad you like it so far! :)

EVERYONE: Okay, the coffin kind of freaks me out, so Erik has a bed, courtesy of me. ;)

**Chapter Eighteen: Awakening**

Erik frantically pulled the boat to shore and scooped Christine up in his arms. He took her inside and put her down on the bed, piling blankets on top of her.

Christine was shivering uncontrollably.

After a moment, Erik realized that she was still in her wet clothing. That couldn't be helping.

After a second of hesitation, he stripped her of her outer garments, leaving on the under ones, which he couldn't bring himself to remove. Besides, they were only slightly damp.

Then, trying not to think about his hands touching her bare skin, he gently replaced her on the bed and restored the blankets.

For a moment he paced the room, not sure what to do.

Finally he contented himself with sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, watching her worriedly.

xxxxx (A few hours later) xxxxx

Christine moaned softly and rolled over, eyes fluttering open. _Where was she?_

The room swam before her, but she could tell she wasn't in her dressing room. She had to sit there and think for a moment before she remembered…

_She was sitting on the shores of the lake, waiting for Erik to return. She wasn't quite sure how long she'd sat there…It had been a while…_

_Her clothing was soaked with lake water, and she was terribly, terribly cold. The dress she was wearing did nothing to help that, as it was rather thin._

_She shuddered—what was taking Erik so long? What if he'd been discovered? What if something had happened to him?_

_She shivered and tried not to think about it. He was fine. He had to be…_

_Was it just her, or was everything getting dimmer? She tried to focus on a spot in the darkness, but it was all just black. She wasn't used to being so dark, so cold…_

_Gradually her world went black._

She had to have fainted, then. But where was she now?

Christine's eyes focused, and she immediately knew exactly where she was. Erik's room…Erik's bed…

_Where was Erik?_

Christine attempted to sit up, but found that she couldn't. There were too many blankets on top of her.

She smiled to herself. Erik had certainly gone a little bit overboard in his effort to help her.

She turned, and a small gasp emitted from her mouth.

Erik lay on the bed beside her, on top of the blankets. One of his arms was outstretched, and two of his fingers were entwined in her hair.

He must have fallen asleep while sitting beside her.

Christine smiled coyly and, taking advantage of the situation, slid closer to him and slipped her arms around his body.

Erik stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent about a Punjab lasso.

Christine nuzzled the crook of his neck, eyes closing once more. One of her hands brushed cold porcelain, and she frowned. _His mask_. Surely that couldn't be comfortable…

Carefully, she slipped it off his face and reached across him to set it on the small table beside the bed.

Then she settled back down beside him and drifted off to sleep, one hand caressing the disfigured side of his face.

xxxxx

"Come, this way." Nadir led Meg back through the opera house. "Tell no one of what you see. Do you understand, Meg?"

She nodded. "Where are we going?"

The man seemed to be leading her backstage.

"To make sure they're both all right. How many others know how to reach his lair?"

Meg frowned. "I'm not sure… only my mother, I should think."

"Madame Giry? She wouldn't tell. We should check on them, nonetheless. What's your friend's name again… Christine, wasn't it?"

The ballet girl nodded again.

"Right. We're here."

Nadir made as if to flick something open, then froze. His gaze was scrutinizing Meg, who was watching closely.

"Then again… Perhaps you shouldn't come."

Meg scowled and started to protest, but Nadir wouldn't hear it. "No, there have been too many close calls with you. You should go back to your room."

"But Christine—"

"I'll make sure she's okay. Go."  
Meg opened her mouth to retort, but then bit off her words, then turned and walked away.

Nadir watched her go, wondering if he'd been wrong to take her this far, even. Surely she wouldn't attempt to betray her friend again…

When she was gone, he quickly slipped behind the backdrops and flicked the trapdoor open, slipping quickly inside.

xxxxx

Meg peered out from behind some stage props, watching the Persian carefully. For a moment, he seemed to fumble with something, and then…

He disappeared.

Meg licked her dry lips and slipped out of her hiding place, walking briskly over to where the man had stood a moment before.

It was a long, long time of searching before she even found the switch, let alone figure out how to work it.

Still, she was persistent, and didn't give up until a small passageway opened before her. Meg quickly slid inside, and the door shut behind her.

xxxxx

Erik sighed as he woke from a good dream, though he couldn't recall what it was.

Immediately, he knew something was missing.

_His mask…where was his mask?!_

His hand went up as a reflex to cover his face, but he found that there was already a hand there.

Trembling, he gently slid Christine's hand aside and sat up.

Christine, still sleeping, muttered a vague protest as he did. In a matter of seconds, however, she was awake.

"Erik?"

He turned his back to her as he fixed the mask back onto his face.

Even when he was finished, he didn't look at her. _What she must think of him! She had probably woken to find him beside her…_ He shuddered, trying not to think about it, and hoped she wasn't angry with him. After all, it wasn't as if he had done it on purpose.

Christine scooted over on the bed and struggled to untangle herself from the sheets. "Erik, what's wrong? I—"

With a crash, she fell off of the bed and to the floor, a flurry of blankets landing on top of her.

Erik whirled around, surprised. When he realized what happened, he would have been amused had he not been so worried.

He crossed over to her in a few short steps and detangled her from the blankets.

"Christine, are you all right—"

He stopped mid-sentence. She was laughing.

"I'm sorry—I'm so clumsy—I'm fine…" she reassured him as she gasped for breath.

He smiled rather hesitantly and brushed several stray curls from her face.

Christine looked up at him, and his breath caught in his throat. Their faces were barely inches away from each other.

Before he could even react, her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him.

Tentatively, he returned the kiss, deepening it.

After a moment they broke apart.

For the first time, Christine seemed to realize she was hardly wearing anything. A blush crept to her cheeks as she quickly pulled a blanket over top of her.

Erik hurriedly looked away, still slightly dazed from the kiss. "There are… a few dresses you could try on in the room down the hall. Your clothes are probably still damp." He stopped, remembering that she had been ill. "How are you feeling?"

"Embarrassed."

"I meant—"

"I'm fine, now. I was just a little bit cold, that's all. I wasn't deathly ill, or anything…" she informed him, a teasing note creeping into her voice. "Where are the dresses?"

"I'll show you."

Christine wrapped a blanket around herself and, careful not to trip on it, followed Erik down the hallway.

He unlocked a door at the end of it, and let her inside.

"Some of them might be a little bit extravagant. They're stage costumes, but perhaps there's something that would do…"

Christine nodded, and he left the room to let her dress.

(A/N: So it wasn't any longer than usual, but oh well. I decided to leave you with the calm before the storm. Temporarily, Christine has forgotten why she came, and Nadir hasn't quite come in yet. Also, Meg hasn't been discovered. I decided to stop it here so that you wouldn't have a cliffhanger over the weekend. I'm being nice. ;) R & R!)

--Hilary


	19. A Talk with the Daroga

(A/N: Wow! Thank you so much for all of the reviews! That's the most I've ever gotten!

Oh, and Kara? You didn't review chapter 17, you ditz! No wonder I didn't respond to you! ((rolls eyes)) There, you made me go and feel bad for nothing!)

**Chapter Nineteen: A Talk with the Daroga**

An hour later, Christine came out of the room wearing one of the dresses. It had taken a while to find one that fit her correctly, and one that wasn't covered in glass gems.

Most of the dresses that were there were ten sizes too big. She guessed that it was probable that they were originally made for Carlotta—or, someone very like her.

The dress she had found was still a bit too fancy for her liking, but at least it wasn't too bad. It was pale blue, and parted in the middle to show a white under dress with lace flounces.

Christine twirled around, feeling oddly girly and giggly at the moment. She accidentally stepped on the hem of the dress while she twirled, and overbalanced.

Erik caught her at the last moment, and she laughed, looking up at him with her big blue eyes.

Embarrassed, he pulled her to her feet and straightened up, brushing off his clothes.

"Erik," Christine said teasingly, "You didn't steal those dresses in there from Carlotta, did yo—" she cut off, eyes widening as she remembered exactly why she had come looking for him in the first place.

The mood changed almost instantly.

"Carlotta…" Christine trailed off, looking accusingly up at Erik, who had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going.

"You tried to kill Carlotta! After you _promised_ me that—"

"Christine, please, I—"

"In fact, it was _right_ after you promised me! What did you do, decide that your promise didn't matter again? Is that it—"

"Christine—"

"And don't try to tell me she was seeing things—my gosh, that's what I told the officer to cover up for you! And what do you do? Rush in and try to murder—"

Erik covered her mouth with his hand, feeling himself start to lose his temper.

"What did you expect me to do?! After you ran off to go tattle to the officer, I found the note—"

"Only proving that you were _spying_ on me as well!" Christine snapped, ducking out of his grip.

"Since when _haven't_ I spied on you?" Erik hissed angrily. "Besides, it's not as if I actually killed the woman!"

"I noticed! What, did your lasso break?"

Erik clenched his fists, but his only answer was a quiet, "No."

"Then what happened? And by the way, I wasn't running off to tattle on you, either, I was going to go cover up for you! Shame you lost your temper, too, because it worked. I had just convinced the officer that Carlotta was delusional!"

"I'm sure that didn't take much." Erik said sneeringly.

Christine flushed. "Well, it was better then stomping in and trying to murder her, which was pretty much all that _you_ contributed!"  
"Yes, you're right… I should have actually _killed_ her instead…"

"You…you _demon_!" Christine spat. "How dare you even _say_ that!"

"At least I _didn't _kill her!" Erik tried not to let her see how much she'd hurt him by calling him that.

"Yes, and you never answered my question. What happened? Why didn't you?"

Erik glared at her and wouldn't answer for a long time.

Finally, he looked back up at her. "Does it _matter_?! No matter what I say or do, for whatever reason, everyone hates me for it!"

He turned on his heel and walked briskly away. Christine stared after him. She was still a little bit angry, but now she was more curious.

She was about to go after him, but then decided against it. She'd let him calm down, first.

xxxxx

Nadir found Erik exactly where he'd expected to find him—the music room.

What he didn't expect was that Erik wasn't playing anything. He sat on the bench in front of his organ, his head in his hands.

The Persian frowned and moved over to stand beside his friend. "Erik—"

Erik looked up quickly, then frowned at him and turned away. "Daroga. How did you get in here?"

"Through the torture room."

xxxxx

Christine watched the conversation from the shadows of the doorway. She quickly stifled her gasp as she heard the strange man's answer to Erik's question.

_What torture room?_

She was jerked out of her thoughts by the Persian's soft voice.

xxxxx

"What has happened, Erik? You are not the person you once were."

Erik didn't answer, refusing to meet Nadir's gaze.

The Persian lowered his voice. "What happened in the incident with Carlotta? You didn't kill her—what stopped you?"

Erik was still silent.

"You can't hide from me. I could take a guess, if I must…Where is Christine?"

Nadir watched as his friend stiffened for a moment. Slowly, Erik turned to face the Persian.

"I don't know. Why?"  
"You don't know…" Nadir trailed off.

"She's angry with me. For all I know she might have found her way back to the lake and left."

"You know that isn't true. She hasn't left, even if you've abandoned her to wander in this house."

The two battled gazes for a moment, before Erik broke away with a sigh. "Perhaps not. Still, she probably doesn't wish to be here, daroga. I see through her petty lies." Erik's gaze clouded over, and he voiced aloud his thoughts, not realizing he did so. "…She called me a demon…That is what she really thinks of me…"

"It seems the only person lying to you is yourself." The Persian's sharp voice broke off his train of thought.

"How so?" Erik snapped, pushing the bench aside as he stood.

"You love her. Why can you not believe that she loves you as well?"

Erik shot him a hate-filled looked, which quickly turned into a tired one. "Excuse me, daroga, I must go. I don't believe I'm feeling well—"

"Erik, don't continue this charade. Tell me, what stopped you from killing Carlotta?"

"Daroga, I—"

"What was it?"

Erik breathed out a heavy sigh. "I couldn't do it…the whole time I saw _her_ eyes, watching me…full of sadness…" he shook his head, "So I left. I couldn't let Christine down. Not that it mattered, in the end." Erik added bitterly, "She still hates me for it."

"I don't hate you for it."

Erik and Nadir both jumped, for neither had noticed Christine quietly sitting in the shadows, watching Erik with tears in her eyes.

Erik quickly looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

Christine stood and crossed over to him, taking his face in her hands.

"Erik…I didn't mean any of those things I said…I was angry, and I didn't think—"

She was interrupted by a loud cry of dismay that echoed through the Phantom's lair.

Erik turned in the direction it was coming from, then he and Nadir locked gazes.

"The torture room! Nadir, what—who—"

Nadir paled. "Meg Giry…I thought she'd left…she must have followed me in! I locked the door behind me and—darn her! Erik…"

But Erik was already gone, and Christine was hurrying after him.

(A/N: Just in case any of you failed to notice, I adore cliffhangers! ;)

Hilary


	20. Carlotta's Discovery

(A/N: I'm updating today and tomorrow (Christmas Eve!) and that's my present to you. I'll also try to update on my birthday. (Two days after).

**Chapter Twenty: Carlotta's Discovery**

Erik hurried toward Meg's screams of dismay. He could hear Christine behind him, trying to catch up.

He was faster, however, and reached the door first.

When Erik unlocked it and yanked it open, a golden-haired young lady fell onto the floor.

Apparently, she had been pounding on the door and screaming for someone to open it for some time now, and probably begun as soon as Nadir left and she found she couldn't open the door.

Tears were streaming down the girl's face, and when she fell she didn't get back up. Instead, she lay on the cold floor, sobbing.

"Meg! Meg, are you okay?" Christine rushed passed Erik to help her friend stand.

Meg nodded, refusing to meet her friend's eyes.

Nadir had reached the scene now, and was staring at the girl coldly.

"I told you to leave." He told her, his voice emotionless.

Meg looked up at him guiltily, and her eyes fell on Erik. They widened, and she flinched.

He met her gaze with unblinking golden eyes.

Hastily, Meg turned away from him and back towards Christine.

"I'm s-so sorry Christine. I d-didn't mean to h-hurt you. I only w-wanted you to be s-safe."

Christine frowned, and was about to ask her friend what had happened, when Nadir cut in.

"I found her up on the roof a few hours back. She was there to meet Carlotta and tell her how to find Erik's house."

Christine gazed at her friend with shock. "Y-you what?! Meg, tell me you didn't let Carlotta know—"

Meg shook her head. "No. That man," she gestured to the Persian, "Stopped me just in time. Indeed, he did tell me to leave, but I followed him here because I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine." Christine reassured her, and then turned her gaze to the Persian. "Thank you. What did you say your name was, again?"

"Nadir."

"Thank you, Nadir." Christine smiled gratefully at him.

Slowly Meg turned to Erik. "I…I'm sorry." She hung her head.

Christine then looked over to Erik, waiting expectantly. The only problem was that Erik had no idea what she was waiting for.

"I…It…" Erik stuttered, "…It doesn't matter."

Christine repressed the childish urge to roll her eyes. So maybe he needed some work at forgiving people, but at least he was getting somewhere.

For example, he hadn't broken Meg's neck yet.

Meg looked relieved. "I'm really, really sorry, Christine, I promise you I won't cause any trouble again!"

Christine smiled, amused. "At least, not on purpose, right?"

Meg blushed, and then turned to Erik to change the subject. "What was that room I was trapped in? The lights were off, and I couldn't see anything. It was creepy… I think I ran into something metal in the middle of the room…Some kind of tree, if I judge by what it felt like…Am I right?"

Erik nodded stiffly.

"A tree?" Christine asked curiously. Erik flinched.

"A tree. Forget it, Christine, that room is of no consequence."

Christine looked thoughtfully at him, but said nothing of it. She decided to investigate the room later.

"Meg, you should get back to your room. It's pretty late…"

"What of you?" Meg asked curiously.

Christine blinked. She hadn't been expecting the question. _What of her? She certainly couldn't stay here and sleep in Erik's bed…_She felt her face grow warm at the thought.

"Christine?..." Meg began suspiciously. She could feel Erik watching her curiously.

"I… wanted to stay just a bit longer… I'll be up in about fifteen minutes…"

Meg looked as if she were about to speak, but Nadir took her arm and led her to the front door. "May we take the boat, Erik?"

Erik nodded, and then watched them leave. Then he turned to Christine questioningly, and was surprised to find that she wasn't there.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized that the door to the torture room was open.

"Christine…"

xxxxx

Carlotta was not as stupid as many would suspect.

When the Persian man had told her to leave up on the rooftop, she had turned and pretended to go, only to sneak back up the stairs.

She had been surprised to see that the ballet rat, Meg Giry, had been in the shadows the whole time.

Suddenly, however, the layout of things had begun to form in her mind.

Meg Giry…she was the one who had left the anonymous note! Of course she knew the way to the Phantom's lair… she was Christine's best friend!  
But why the sudden betrayal…

Carlotta pondered this as she watched the Persian untie the brat. Who was that man, anyway? What part did he play in all of this?

Quite obviously, he had known that Giry had come to meet her… meaning he had somehow found out about the note…meaning that he had been spying. How much did the man know? Why was he sticking up for the Phantom?

With these questions echoing in her small head, she listened to the conversation between the ballet rat and the Persian.

_One of the Phantom's friends?_ She hadn't known that the creature had friends—besides Christine, of course.

So the Phantom loved Christine…Carlotta hadn't seen that one coming. She had only supposed they were working together to destroy the prima donna's career…

_Interesting…_

She followed the two as Nadir led Meg back down to the backstage of the Opera House, where he suddenly told her to leave.

Carlotta watched curiously. Apparently, there was an entrance to the Ghost's lair here, somewhere…

She watched as the little brat, Meg, pretended to leave (Ironically, she was using the same method Carlotta had moments before).

Carlotta watched intently from the shadows as the Persian man disappeared into a hole he opened up in the wall.

_A trapdoor. So that was how this 'Ghost' got around so easily without being seen…_

Then she waited as Meg hurried after him.

When they were both gone, she approached the place where the trap door was and examined it.

Nearly an hour of trying to figure out how it worked had passed when she accidentally scratched the button with one of her many large rings.

She watched as the door slid open.

Carlotta smiled. When she was confident she knew how to work it, she turned on her heel and left.

After all, it wasn't her job to track down this "Ghost."

No…This was a job for the police.

(A/N: Oh yes. A double cliffie. Don't you just love it? Christine in the torture room, and Carlotta going after the police… ((sighs happily)) this is the moment all fanfic authors love most… R&R!)

Hilary


	21. Facing the Past

(A/N: I'm so sorry about the long wait. I've been extremely busy lately, and haven't even been able to sit down at the computer for a while. Well, ever since my birthday, anyway. I had a little bit of time, but only to read one or two stories, and not to write. So, here's a chapter now. I might be able to have one up tomorrow as well. Thank you for your patience! Unfortunately, I can't respond to each of you anymore. That would be 29 individual responses…wow… I think I might be becoming popular…scary…)

**Chapter Twenty-One: Facing the Past**

Christine had never seen any room like this one before. It was quite empty, except for what seemed to be, as Meg had said, a metal tree in the middle of the room.

There were coverings all over the walls, somewhat like curtains. Christine peeked inside of one to see a mirror.

"Christine!"

She dropped the curtain and turned quickly as Erik entered the room after her.

"Erik," Christine began, confused, "What is this room? What is its function? I don't really understand…" Then her eyes caught the Punjab lasso on the tree, and her mind began to develop an idea.

Erik refused to look at her, and for a while he wouldn't answer.

When he did, however, it was barely a whisper. "It's a torture room, Christine. I'm sure you heard the daroga say that."

Christine hesitantly nodded, knowing by the edge in Erik's voice that she was in dangerous territory. (Literally…)

Erik kept a hold on his emotions however, and walked over to her, slightly pulling back a curtain. "The entire room is surrounded in mirrors. When the room is in use, I use the controls that are in a room over there—" he pointed upwards at the wall they were standing near, "To fill the place with heat and light, which are reflected back by the mirrors."

Christine was beginning to catch on. "The mirrors are also reflecting the tree, giving the room the illusion that it is an endless African jungle. When the heat becomes unbearable…" she trailed off, her eyes fixed on the lasso. "Erik…that's horrible… tell me that you never actually used it…"

Silence.

Christine was beginning to feel slightly sick. "When…what…"

Erik sighed. This room, which he had once been so proud of, was starting to make him feel ill as well. He took Christine's arm and led her out of it, locking the door securely behind him.

xxxxx

Christine listened intently as Erik explained how he had come to create the torture room, and what it had been used for.

She could tell by listening to his voice that this was hard for him, and she could also tell that he was beginning to resent what he had done. She hoped that this meant he was starting to change his life for the better. Perhaps God would still forgive him for what he'd done, if only he asked…

xxxxx

When Erik finished, he didn't look up at Christine. Surely, she would resent him now. Surely she would be horrified by how he had acted.

After a while, he raised his eyes to meet hers, expecting to see anger, hate, repulsion.

Instead, there was only sorrow.

"Erik," Christine began softly. She didn't want to hurt him by forcing him to relieve his worst memories, but she had to know. "What of your life before that? You've never spoken of your family. What happened?"

"Christine…" his angelic voice was now full of pain.

She reached over and gently took his hands in hers, eyes pleading. "I'm sorry Erik…Please forgive me… but I need to know. Try to understand…"

After a moment, Erik began to relieve his childhood in a broken voice that was both sad and horrible to listen to. Christine found herself biting her lip until it bled when he told of his time with the gypsies, and unnoticed tears trailed down her face.

Miraculously, however, Erik found that with every word, his past life was beginning to dissolve. With every syllable, the pain lessened, and hope began to well up inside of him. The past was gone. What was done was done, and he couldn't change it.

He could, however, change his future.

When he finished this time, he felt strangely light, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

He looked up to see Christine's reaction to his tale.

She just sat and looked at him for a little while, her hands still gripping his. Then, she dropped one of them and lifted a hand to his face, carefully removing his mask.

Erik made no motion to stop her this time.

Christine set the mask down on the ground, and gently caressed the deformed side of his face, her eyes never leaving his.

Then she leaned forward, and her lips found his.

xxxxx

Carlotta sat calmly in the lobby of the Opera House, explaining everything to the legion of police she had summoned.

One of them stepped forward with a frown, and she recognized him as the man who Christine had talked to earlier.

"Are you trying to tell us, madam, that you have found the lair of the ghost that you frightened away earlier?"

The prima donna nodded primly.

"And you are certain that this thing is a ghost?"

She nodded again, this time a bit more uncertainly.

The man nearly laughed. "So you want us to kill a ghost? My good lady, I regret to say that I forgot my garlic."

Another officer in the back, which was one of Carlotta's fans, frowned disapprovingly. "Don't mock the lady. And besides, garlic is to scare away vampires, not ghosts."

The lead officer turned to face the man. "Are you volunteering to lead this mission, then? Be my guest."

The man hesitated. He was quite obviously superstitious. "But…how do you kill a ghost?"

"My point exactly." The lead officer said sourly.

"Sir, quite obviously, the lady has made a mistake. There are no such things as ghosts. This creature must be a man…" another spoke up.

The lead officer smothered another chuckle. "But this lovely …personage… claims that it is a ghost. If you cannot trust her on that point, what can you trust her on? For all you know, she is leading you into a kind of trap."

"Why would she do that?"

"If you wish to lead this insane expedition, as I've said before, be my guest. I will take no part in this."

The lead officer turned on his heel and marched out. Several men, perhaps about half the group, followed him.

Carlotta pouted, trying to catch the sympathy of the remaining officers.

"Dis _thing_ tried to kill mee! Eef nothing is done, I will… I will…"

"Be assured, madam, something _will_ be done!" a younger man reassured her. "This thing cannot possibly be a ghost, you must be mistaken. Lead us to its lair, and we will destroy it!"

The other men nodded, encouraged by the brave words.

Carlotta stood. "Follow mee."

xxxxx

Erik broke off abruptly as something caught his attention.

Christine watched his face curiously. "What is it?"

Erik's eyes were quickly darkening.  
"Someone is in the torture room."

(A/N: Okay, so it's short, but this chapter kind of had to be. The next one is longer, I promise. Hopefully I'll have it up tomorrow. R&R, please!)

Hilary


	22. The Torture Room

(A/N: Wow. Imagine my amazement when I came on here yesterday morning, and I already had _13_ reviews. Sheesh. Lol, anyway, Thank you so much! The next chapter, as I promised, is coming up right now. Unfortunately, I couldn't get it up yesterday because the server was "overloaded" and wouldn't let me log in. Anyway, I must say I really enjoyed reading some of those reviews, which one consisted of…Carlotta stuck in the tree… ((giggles)) Great, now you've got _that_ stuck in my mind… But thank you, everyone!)

**Chapter Twenty-Two: The Torture Room**

Before Christine could even react, Erik tore out of the room.

She did all she could to keep up with him, not wanting to get lost in his home.

Finally, they reached a room she had never been in before. It was dark, and she could barely see anything, but she could sense Erik moving around it.

He had drawn something back to reveal a window-like glass in the wall.

"A one-way mirror. You can see what's going on, without anyone in there seeing you." He explained without turning around.

Christine carefully went over to it and peered inside…

xxxxx

Carlotta stood facing the door. She was already inside the strange room, and was trying to get the cowardly policemen inside of it as well.

"What does it look like in there?" one called down to her.

"Eet ees just a dark, eeempty room except for zis odd metal tree…"

"It doesn't sound very dangerous…"

"Eet eesn't!" Carlotta snapped. "Dee ghost eesn't 'ere!"

Slowly and cautiously, the men stepped one-by-one into the room.

The door snapped closed behind them.

The entire assembly jumped, then turned to stare at where the door had been.

It was gone.

One or two of the policemen whimpered, and Carlotta went into hysterics, screaming at them to let her out.

One of the police officers with a cooler head got everyone's attention. "The only way we can get out now," he explained, "Is to find another door."

They looked all around the room, but didn't see one.

"There has to be another door here! Keep looking!" The officer in charge shouted.

After a little while, though, even he began to dismay.

xxxxx

"Let them out." Christine whispered, but Erik pretended he couldn't hear her.

He was tapping his fingers on the desk, next to a certain lever…

"Erik, NO!" Christine gently pushed him out of the way. "Let them out!"

Slightly back to his senses, Erik shook his head. "I can't. The door they came through only unlocks from the inside, and I'm not going to waltz in and unlock it for them."

"But the other door—"

"Would let them into my lair. No, Christine, I won't do it."

She began to protest, but he wouldn't listen.

Smiling in a way that made her shiver, he walked back over to the window and began to speak to them. "Greetings, my guests…"

xxxxx

"_Greetings, my guests, and welcome to the home of the Opera Ghost."_

Carlotta gasped, then pretended to swoon into a young (but handsome) officer's arms.

The voice that had spoken echoed all through the room, bouncing off of the walls.

The superstitious officer moaned and dropped Carlotta, who had fallen into his arms moments before.

"_I see you have found my torture room. Not the way I'd recommend to come in, but, alas, that was your choice."_

The officers all turned to look at Carlotta, who got up and brushed herself off.

"You're the one who told us this was a safe way to come!" one of them yelled at her. "Now we're stuck in his torture roo—torture…room…" The man swayed on his feet, all color draining from his face.

"_Yes, my torture room. Would you like to see how it works?"_

The officers instinctively all bunched up together, eyes darting around like dragonflies.

Suddenly there was a wash of light which illuminated hundreds of mirrors…

xxxxx

"What are you doing? Erik, no, please stop!" Christine ran over to him and attempted to pull him away.

"Christine, let me go." He said quite calmly.

"No! Erik, I won't watch you just _kill_ them!"

"It's too late. They are the ones who decided to break into my lair. It was their decision, not mine."

"But you don't have to kill them for it!"  
"I'm not the one who will kill them. One will probably kill them self with the lasso…the others will most likely die of the intense heat…"

"How could you, Erik! I thought you had changed…"

Finally, he turned to look at her.

Tears streamed freely down her face, and her lip bled where she had bit it out of worry.

He reached out and tenderly brushed away a tear, then sighed and turned back to the window.

A moment later, he switched the lever off.

Christine sighed in relief, and walked up beside him.

"Perhaps _I_ could go in and unlock the door they came through." She suggested. "After all, they wouldn't harm me."

There was a pause, before, "The key is in the bag on the table over there."

Christine hurried over to it.

xxxxx

Everyone sighed in relief as the lights flickered off.

"_Christine Daae will come in a moment and let you out. Do not try to force the inside door, and do not try to harm her in any way. You have been warned."_

Then the voice was gone, and the place seemed empty.

Carlotta smiled slyly, then whispered "I 'ave a plan. Ms. Daae ees going to let us out, and when she does, ve 'old dis dagger to her throat and threaten that eef _'ee_ doesn't let us een, ve'll kill her."

There was a moment of silence as the officers registered this.

"But he told us not to harm her in any way!" the one who seemed to be in charge muttered.

"Vhat can 'ee do? She ees een 'ere, so 'ee cannot turn on de torture room!"

The man thought about this, then smiled. "I like the way you think, my lady."

xxxxx

Erik heard their entire whispered conversation from where he sat in the control room. He clenched his fists… _Those ungrateful little…_

"Erik, is this the right key? There are two, so I wasn't sure—"

He turned to see his dear, innocent Christine holding up the correct key.

After a moment, he made a decision.

"No. Take the other one."

Christine smiled and nodded, then exchanged the keys.

Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek and left the room.

xxxxx

Carlotta and the officers waited expectantly for the scrape of a key in a lock. The lead man held a dagger behind his back, looking around for the door.

There was only silence for a little while, however.

Finally, something broke the silence…but it was not the sound they had been hoping for.

"_You cruel ungrateful creatures! How dare you talk of killing Christine while she seeks to save your lives? I have given Ms. Daae the wrong key. You do not deserve to be saved."_

xxxxx

Christine struggled with the key. It didn't seem to be able to fit inside the lock, but Erik had told her that it was the right one!  
After a moment longer, she decided that he must have made a mistake. She had to go back for the other key.

xxxxx

Erik finished locking the door to the control room, then sat down at his desk.

Christine would be upset with him. She would hate him again…

He couldn't think of that. Those men (and one woman) in the torture room had sealed their fate. _How dare they talk of killing Christine!_

Clearing his mind of all second thoughts, he reached over and pulled the lever.

Once more, the room was flooded with light…

(A/N: Okay, well, it's only a little bit longer than usual. But it's still…well a _little_ bit longer than usual! Right? Oh, anddid you enjoymy nice cliffie? I rather like this one… Long live cliffhangers!!!!!!!)


	23. Erik's Mistake

(A/N: I keep getting complaints that my chapters are too short, yet half of the other stories I read have chapters shorter than mine! Ah, well…You want a long chapter? I'll give you a long chapter! ((glowers))

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Erik's Mistake**

Christine was halfway down the hall when she heard cries of terror from the direction of the torture room.

She whirled around, staring at the door in dread.

_No…he wouldn't have…no…_

She stared at the key in her hand…the key that hadn't worked. The wrong key. He had done it on purpose!

Christine turned quickly and ran as fast as she could back to the control room, dropping the key by accident somewhere on the way. It didn't matter. It wasn't the right key anyway…

"Erik!" She reached the door and tried the handle, but it wouldn't turn. He had locked it.

She pounded on the door until her fists bled, but there was no answer. "Erik…Erik, please! No! Don't do this…not now! You promised!"

She sank down to her knees, tears running freely down her cheeks. _"You promised…"_

xxxxx

Erik heard Christine's cries, but ignored them.

She would have left him anyway. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

He winced as he heard her pound on the door, knowing that she was hurting herself. Still, he attempted to pretend she wasn't there.

He turned his attention to the torture room.

xxxxx

"Why are you doing this, Erik?!" Christine cried, back on her feet. She wasn't about to give up. She couldn't just let him murder again… things had been going so well before! She knew that if she had gotten more time, he wouldn't have done anything like this ever again. Why had Carlotta interfered? The stupid woman!

"Erik! I know you can hear me! Please, I want you to know, I'm not doing this for them! I'm doing this for you! Please, Erik, _please_ turn off the torture room! I know that Carlotta is a nuisance, but that doesn't mean she has to die! And what about the other men in there…they did nothing except follow her! Are you going to condemn them for it?"

There was a pause, and no answer. Still, she could hear the screams and moans from the room below. But she wasn't going to give up on him…not yet!

"Erik, don't do this! You're not condemning them…you're condemning yourself! I don't want you to become a murderer again…I can't bear it… please, turn it off… If not for my sake, then at least for yours! _Please_…" she was crying again. She couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks. Her shouts had been pushed down to a broken whisper. "Please…I love you…"

xxxxx

Erik stared at the lever that would, with just one flick of his hand, turn the torture room off. His rage had slowly ebbed away, but there was still just a bit there.

He couldn't bear to upset Christine further. She was the only bright spot in his life, and here he was trying to blacken it!

Slowly his hand reached up to where the lever was. He simply gazed at it for a moment, and then, with conviction, pulled it down.

The lights in the torture room went off, and he could hear relieved sobbing.

Turning on his heel, he snatched up the bag with the remaining key in it, grabbed his fedora and cloak, then unlocked the door to the control room.

xxxxx

Christine, on her knees once more, looked up as the door opened.

Erik walked out and swept passed her, not even giving her a second glance.

Christine pushed herself to her feet and ran after him.

She stayed a careful few feet behind him, though, for at the moment he looked angry and menacing. He had his fedora back on, which cast his face into shadow and hid his expression. His black cloak billowed out behind him, making him seem even more threatening.

Her heart sank as she wondered what had become of the people in the torture room. Erik didn't look very forgiving at the moment, and for a second she had a flicker of doubt. _What if he _had_ killed them after all?_

They reached the beginning of the hallway that ended with the door to the torture room, and Erik whirled around to face her.

"Go to the control room, and stay there until I come back."

Christine nodded. His voice told her quite plainly not to question him.

Alone, Erik strode down the rest of the hallway and unlocked the door.

xxxxx

Carlotta and the officers spun around as they heard the sound of a door opening.

From the light of the hallway, they could see a tall, dark figure standing in the doorway.

Almost all of them cowered away from it in the darkness, but one exceedingly stupid policeman scrambled for his gun.

The shot rang through the entire room, making everyone else jump.

Erik easily dodged the bullet, and they could hear his derisive snort.

"_Don't try my patience!"_

His voice sounded close, as if he were standing right beside them.

The foolish officer with the gun aimed it at the darkness from where the voice had come.

"_Put down your gun before you shoot one of your colleagues."_

This time the voice sounded from the other side of the group.

They all turned to face that direction.

Erik laughed, and now it seemed as though the sound was everywhere. The policemen shuddered and gathered into a closer group.

There was a scraping noise like the sound of a key in a lock, an a patch of light shone on the other side of the room.

"_This is the door that you came through. Leave through it. Now."_

They didn't need to be told twice.

Surprisingly, Carlotta was the last to leave through the doorway.

"_Madame Toad?"_

Carlotta gritted her teeth at the ghost's scathing nickname for her, but turned around nonetheless. She was too frightened to ignore him.

"'es?" she thought that she could make out two glowing golden eyes not to far away from her.

"_Tell Monsieurs Andre and Firmin that I have a gift for them. I will deliver it soon."_

Carlotta backed away, not daring to argue with the voice.

Preoccupied with his conversation with the Prima Donna, Erik didn't see the shadowy figure at the other end of the torture room sneak into his lair.

Still concealed in darkness, Erik turned to shut the door.

One of the policemen had stayed and watched and, as soon as he didn't see the shining eyes, fired his gun.

Erik jumped out of the way too late. He hadn't expected the man to be so foolish, not when he was still standing there, with his Punjab lasso ready…

The bullet entered into his right shoulder, and embedded itself in the bone.

_He should kill the man…the idiot…_

Instead, he whirled around and slammed the door shut, then locked it behind him. He was angry with himself…how had he let the man do that?! He couldn't believe he'd actually turned his back on an armed man…what a foolish mistake…

A strange warmth spread through his shoulder, and his head was pounding. Erik staggered a few steps, then became frustrated with himself. He had taken worse than this in his lifetime!

He straightened up and walked out of the torture room, locking that behind him as well.

xxxxx

A few of the braver policemen stood outside of the trap door, wondering what to do next.

The one with the gun smiled.

"Ghosts don't bleed, do they?" he asked slyly.

The others gave him an odd look, wondering if the frightening experience had rattled his brain.

"Of course not!" one snapped.

"Well…" the gunman leaned down and swiped up a spot of blood that had splattered when he had shot Erik, "…This one does."

The others stared for a moment, and then slowly smiled at each other.

"You saw Christophe go in the so-called ghost's lair, didn't you?"

One of the others grinned. "Yeah… and at the time I thought he was insane. Well, we've injured the man, perhaps Christophe can finish the job."

"We'll keep a lookout here, for him."

xxxxx

Christine felt sick as she sat in the dark control room. She had watched the events transpire through the one-way mirror, and thought that Erik handled his anger pretty well. At least he hadn't killed the man who…who…"

_He shot him. My God, he shot Erik! _

Christine scrambled around through the blackness in the control room, as she had no candle. She was searching for the doorknob.

At last she found it.

She frantically turned it, but it wouldn't open.

_Locked._

She felt around for the bolt, and a few minutes later found it. Then she slid it open and hurried out, running straight for the torture room.

A few seconds later, she reached the hallway that ended in the torture room. Erik was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed.

When he heard her draw nearer though, he opened them back up and smiled weakly down at her.

"I'm fine." He tried to reassure her.

Christine frowned as she realized he was purposely hiding his back from her. "Erik, let me—"

"Besides, aren't you angry with me?" he reminded her almost mockingly. Then he took off down the corridor.

Christine wasn't fast enough to keep up with him, even when he was injured, but she had a pretty good idea where he was going.

Moments later, she found him in the music room. He had just had time to remove his cloak, and was looking at it when she came in.

Without even looking up at her, he said, "They put a hole in it."

Christine stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to laugh or roll her eyes at this comment, which seemed oddly out of character. "Erik…are you feeling well?"

He folded the cloak up, the corners of his lips turned up in an amused half-smile. "I'm fine, Christine, as I said before."

"You liar."

He blinked at her, shocked at her bluntness, and then shook his head and ignored her, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Christine just stood and watched for a moment, then blushed and turned away.

"Christine, would you be so kind as to fill a basin of water? You know where the kitchen is."

She nodded and quickly did as he asked, returning minutes later with a basin of steaming water and a damp cloth.

By the time she got back, he had his shirt off, and was busy folding it and placing it on top of the cloak. He had also taken his hat and gloves off.

"Anything else?" she asked, eyes glued to the floor.

"Yes, actually, in the kitchen there are hot tongs over the fire. I'll need them to remove the bullet."

Christine gulped and nodded, then ran off to fetch them as well.

She covered her hands with her dress as she held them, so that she didn't burn herself, and hurried back.

Erik was waiting for her, and gently took the tongs from her hands. "Thank you. That's all I'll need. You may either return to your dressing room, or else you know that your room here is always open to you."

"No."

Erik looked up at her, surprised. "No?"

"I'm not leaving. You can't dress this wound yourself. I'm helping."

Erik shook his head, "No, Christine. I'll be okay by myself, so—"

Christine crossed her arms obstinately. "Oh really? I'd like to see you remove the bullet, which is in _the back of your shoulder,_ yourself."

Erik frowned for a moment, then sighed as he realized the logic in what she said. "Christine, I don't think you'll be able to—" he met her steely gaze, then closed his eyes and nodded. "Fine, I'll instruct you on what to do."

He sat down on a stool, and she walked around behind him.

Christine winced as she looked at the wound, then carefully did everything that Erik told her to.

It wasn't pleasant, but then, she really hadn't expected it to be.

At long last, however, the bullet came out, and she cleaned and bandaged the injury.

Erik tried to stand, but stumbled and quickly sat back down. Christine hovered worriedly over him, but he assured her that he was okay, just weak.

"Are you sure that—"

"I'm _fine_, Christine. Now, you should be getting to bed, it's too late for you to be up."

She bit her lip, then nodded and took a few steps towards the door. Suddenly she stopped and turned, though, looking back at him.

"What of you? You can't possibly stay here all night."

"I've done it before."

"But that's when you weren't hurt! Please, let me help you back to your room."

He was going to protest, but then gave in with another sigh. "All right, but just to the door. I'll be okay from there."

Christine nodded and let him lean against her, then helped him back to his room, which he gave her directions to, as she couldn't remember them.

Finally they reached the door, and he bid her goodnight.

Christine let go and stepped back, watching with a worried look in her eye. He was too tired to notice her slip into the room after him, and he locked the door.

Erik weakly made his way over to the bed, leaning on the furniture for support. _Darn the confounded weakness..._ He had lost too much blood.

Finally he made it to his bed and collapsed, falling asleep almost immediately.

Christine crept over and carefully lay down beside him, removing his mask once more. She kissed him gently on the cheek, then wrapped her arms around him and went to sleep.

xxxxx

The shadowy figure suddenly stopped in the hallway, a glint of bronze catching his eye. He knelt down to find a small key—The very key that Christine had dropped while running to stop Erik from killing them in the torture room.

The man—Christophe—had watched the man who called himself "The Phantom" stumble back into his room with a girl as his aide.

He was lucky—if Erik hadn't been so tired, he would have spotted him immediately. The man's heart had sank when the 'ghost' locked the door behind him…but now…

He held up the key, not daring to hope it was the right one.

Quietly he slunk over to the door and slipped the key into the lock.

It fit.

Smiling, the man stood outside of the door and waited, just to make sure they were asleep.

An hour later, he turned the key, then opened the door and slipped inside, a dagger clutched in his hand.

(A/N: Ha! How's that?! Nice long chapter. ((beams)) Actually...it's probably normal-sized. ((Sighs)) But all things come with a price, no? I thought the cliffhanger was a nice touch. One of the worst ones there is…Please R&R…or I might just take my good old time in updating! ((smiles innocently))


	24. A Knife in the Dark

(A/N: Hello everyone! I know this is going to be a disappointment after that long update, but I'm going back to my normal length. The other one was too much of a hassle, because I kept getting interrupted as I type, which really annoys me…

I encourage all of my wonderful reviewers to check out my bio, which will keep you up to date with everything that's going on in this story. I hope you'll check it out…sooner than later, if you really enjoy this story. There are hints about… something… that probably won't be there in a few days' time…

Thank you all for my reviews! It makes me sad that I can't respond to each and every one of you anymore. I hope sometime I'll have time to do that. Anyway, R&R, as always!)

**Chapter Twenty-Four: A Knife in the Dark**

Christine stirred in her sleep.

She was dreaming that she was standing in the music room, watching Erik play the organ. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a glint of steel.

She gasped as she realized that there was a man in the shadows, holding a dagger, ready to plunge it into Erik's back.

Christine's breath caught in her throat as he began to bring it down—

Her eyes fluttered open and she shivered and tried to rid herself of the nightmare…

Only to find out moments later that the nightmare was real.

The man in the shadows had only just begun to bring the dagger down on Erik when she threw herself at him, knocking him to the floor.

Erik, who was a light sleeper, awoke instantly at the movement. It only took him a fraction of a second to figure out what was going on. He leapt out of the bed and grabbed his mask, not even stopping to think about why it was off, or why Christine was in the room with him when he had locked the door. He didn't even wonder how the young officer had gotten in. Luckily, it had been too dark for the foolish man to see his face...

The man still had the dagger in his hand, and this time he lunged out at Christine, who ducked out of the way.

The dagger caught her wrist, and left a long trail of blood behind it.

Christine cried out as the man cornered her and lifted the dagger. She closed her eyes… there was no where to run…

You couldn't, as Christophe found out later, just ignore Erik, even if he was injured…and especially if he was angry.

A length of rope flashed out and, quick as lightning, struck Christophe's wrist, causing him to drop the dagger in shock.

The next thing he knew, Erik had the infamous Punjab lasso around his neck, and was tightening it, cutting off his air supply.

Christophe choked and struggled against the man's grip, but only managed to make the noose tighter.

Christine, who had been watching with wide, horrified eyes, suddenly cried out and flung herself at Erik, who she knocked to the floor.

The instant Christophe felt the lasso loosen, he lifted it off of his neck and darted for his dagger, which Christine managed to kick out of the way with her foot.

Erik pushed her off of him, winced at his injured shoulder, and ignored her apologies.

Then he was on his feet again, and the two men glared at each other, carefully noting the other's actions.

Christine stood and watched Erik warily.

Christophe had been trained as a policeman. He knew just by how Erik moved that he was in trouble.

So, instead of fighting him—as he was certain he would lose—he ran for the door.

Erik hadn't expected this sudden change, and was just a moment too late to catch him.

Cursing, he moved to run after the man, but Christine stopped him. She gave him a look that said quite clearly that the fight was over…to let the man go.

He frowned and shook her off. "I'll just see him to the door, then…" he hissed, then ran after the officer.

xxxxx

Christophe tried all the doors and, one after another, found them to be locked. Instead of trying any more of them, he simply followed the hallway out into what looked like a dining room. From there, it led to a kitchen…and then, finally, two great doors that marked the way out.

He had been lucky, even though he never found out, that he was so close to the door, or he would never have found it.

Christophe grabbed one of the doorknobs and yanked a door opened, then rushed out into the darkness.

He couldn't tell where he was going, for pitch blackness pressed in on all sides.

He didn't realize that the ghost's house was actually raised up on a cliff on one side, and that the cliff broke of abruptly and ended in the lake below.

At least, not until it was too late…

xxxxx

Erik saw the man run out of the front doors and smiled, following at his leisure. He knew very well what lay outside of the doors if you did not take the correct path.

A moment later, he was awarded satisfaction as he heard a shocked, fearful shout.

Erik adjusted his eyes to the darkness and looked around, then walked carefully over to where the man had fallen off.

To his surprise, the officer had actually grabbed the ledge at the last moment, and was clinging on for dear life. It wouldn't last long, though, he could see. The man wasn't able to pull himself up, and just hung from the edge. His fingers were beginning to slip.

The man looked up with pleading eyes at Erik, who was his last hope.

"Please…" he whispered, voice trembling, "Please help me! I'm sorry for what I did…but I was only doing my job! I'm really not that bad a person…_Please…_" the man choked, tears welling up in his eyes.

Erik stared down at him for a moment. _The stupid man—he deserved to die…didn't he?_ Erik frowned at his hesitation to just let the man fall.

Christophe's fingers kept slipping, and his voice became frantic. "Please help me! I'll do anything—anything! I have a five-year-old boy at home, and I'm the only family he has! Please…_please…_I can't leave him alone in the world… I'll quit my job, I'll give you everything I own… But please, I can't desert my son…he won't understand…he's only five! _Please help me!_"

Something inside of Erik stirred. _Pity?_

The man only had a few more seconds…

Erik paused, unsure of what to do.

Christophe knew that he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer as well. He gave Erik one last pleading look and whispered, "Make sure Chaney knows I love him, and that I never wanted to leave him."

With that, the man hands slipped, and he fell off of the ledge.

Erik lunged down to grab his hand…

…and perhaps, had he been a moment sooner, he could have saved his life.

(A/N: It's short, but important. VERY important…and not only to _this_ fic…((blinks)) huh? Oh… oops… whatever did I mean? Ah, well, you can ignore that, if you wish.

Please remember to check my bio if you can. Perhaps if you do you can decipher something… But I'm not supposed to be dropping hints on here… that's why I have my bio! Goodbye everyone, and please R&R!)


	25. Strange Emotions

(A/N: Hello everyone! I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday, but I was away until 5:20, then I came home and accidentally fell asleep, then I had to eat dinner and then go to a school meeting at 8 for the play. Sorry! …Today I was busy, too, so I'm really sorry if this chapter is short, it's just all I have time for between school, play practice, singing lessons, and accidentally falling asleep! lol, sorry again!)

(A/N#2: Oh, sorry for the confusion on the last chapter! Chaney was the officer's 5-year-old son, and no, he wasn't _The _Lon Chaney, lol. I just happened to come across that name on a French name site, and I liked it. I didn't even think about the confusion it could cause!)

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Strange Emotions**

Erik stared into the blackness as seconds, then minutes, passed. _What had he done? _

_Nothing._ He thought wryly, _And that was the problem…_

If he hadn't hesitated, he could have stopped the man from falling! He could have saved the man's life.

Erik stepped back from the ledge as 'Could haves' welled up in his mind. He could have done a lot of things. But he hadn't.

For the first time, he felt an odd sensation, and thought he could put a name to it. _Guilt._

Still somewhat dazed, Erik stumbled back to his home, slamming the doors behind him.

At last he was beginning to feel some emotions he knew: anger at himself, for not saving the man in time; then frustration with the man for not holding on longer.

_Just a second would have done it. I could have saved him if he had held on just a second more…_

That emotion was replaced almost instantly by a wash of irritation, once more at himself. How could he think that? It was his fault, not the man's! He had held on for as long as he could.

Erik found himself to be in the music room when he looked up. He smiled—it seemed as though every time he needed to think, his feet led him here.

Erik's mind now turned to what the officer had said before he fell. _'His five-year-old son,'_ he thought miserably to himself, _'Poor child…he is alone in the world now… and I know how that feels…'_

Briefly Erik wondered what would happen to the child, before realizing that he'd probably be sent to an orphanage when his father never returned.

Another emotion invaded him—it was not so strange, this time, and yet he had never felt it for another person before… _Sadness. Grief…_

Every time he had had that emotion before, it had been focused on himself… Sadness at how the world reacted to his face, grief at what he had been forced to do to make his way in the world…

Now he could only think of how the poor boy would feel when he found out that his father was gone.

Erik sat in the shadows of his music room, pondering the new emotions, and didn't notice when Christine came in, looking for him.

xxxxx

When Erik hadn't come back, Christine had begun to worry. What if he had done something to the man?

Or worse…What if he had been hurt?

She ignored her bleeding wrist for the moment and hurried away to look for him.

A few minutes later, she found him in the music room.

Erik sat in the corner of the room, his head in his hands. He seemed to be in deep thought over something.

Christine was instantly relieved to see that he hadn't been injured any further, but unhappy to find that the bullet wound had reopened, and had bled through its bandages under the strain of fighting off the officer. They would have to be changed.

Quietly, Christine walked over to stand by Erik, who didn't seem to notice her.

She frowned—it was odd that he hadn't picked up on her footsteps—he was usually very quick to notice her presence.

He remained gazing at the floor until she knelt down beside him and whispered, "Erik? Are you okay?"

He snapped instantly out of his trance, and then stared at her for a moment, as if trying to remember who she was.

Suddenly his eyes focused. "Christine—you were hurt!"

She hid her wrist, which was now crusted over with blood.

"It was nothing bad. I think he was just trying to scare me away. But your bandages were bled through—"

He seemed to notice this for the first time, then shrugged it off.

"I'll be fine."

For the first time, Christine abruptly wondered what had happened to the officer. When she thought about this, she was almost afraid to ask.

"Erik… the man… what happened to him?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and her fears grew.

"You didn't… oh, no… Erik, he _is_ alive, isn't he?"

Erik stood and walked away passed her, saying as he went, "Let me take a look at your arm in the kitchen."

Christine was about to protest, then bit her lip and followed.

In the kitchen, Erik heated some water and found a clean cloth to bathe her wrist with.

She gave him her arm when he asked for it, still watching him intently. "Erik…"

"Later, Christine."

"But—"

"Please."

She opened her mouth to argue, then fell silent at the tone of his voice. He seemed almost upset about something…

When he finished cleaning her arm, he said gently, "There, now, you were right. It's only a scratch—none of the major veins were pierced. You were lucky."

Christine nodded, then instantly began to see to his shoulder.

When she had the bandages changed, she sat down next to him and carefully changed the subject to the officer.

Erik turned away from her, and she shut her eyes, lifting up a silent prayer that he hadn't killed the man.

_Oh, lord, he couldn't have killed him… Please not now… not after everything he's improved…_

"I didn't kill him, if that's what you're thinking." Erik said a moment later.

Christine breathed a sigh of relief, and mouthed a quiet, "Thank you…"

"But I as good as killed him."

Her heart stopped again. "What…" she stammered, coldness sinking in, "What do you mean?"

He sighed, and she tenderly laid a hand on his shoulder, urging him to go on.

"He reached the doors before me and ran outside," Erik finally began, his voice barely audible. "The officer didn't know where he was going. A minute later, he fell off the edge of the cliff."

A faint gasp escaped Christine's mouth. "B-but still… that wasn't your fault…"

He waved her excuses for him away. "He grabbed onto the ledge, but couldn't pull himself up, so he hung on, and cried to me for help. Needless to say, I didn't assist him. Finally, he could hold on no longer, and slipped from the edge. At the last moment I tried to save him, but I was too late."

Erik refused to look at her, and the two sat in stillness for a while.

Finally, he turned back to her and said, "Come, Christine, you must be getting back to the Opera House. You've stayed with me for far too long, and people will start to miss you."

He stood and offered his arm.

Christine was going to object, but he saw the uncertainty in her eyes and told her, "They will start to search for you if you don't return soon."

Seeing the logic in this, she reluctantly took his arm, and he led her away.

(A/N: Well, it's short, but guess what? There isn't a cliffhanger! ((listens as everyone cheers)) ((sighs)) Oh cliffhanger, how I do miss thee…)


	26. Masquerade

(A/N: Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews!!!!!

Just one note… Ceez, I'm sorry for my short chapters. I know I could have added the part where Christine went back to the opera house, and I _would_ have, had I had enough time. Unfortunately, I wanted to go to sleep at 10:00, and that is when I _started_ updating, because it was the first time I had any time to all day long. By the time I was finished with what I had for the last chapter, it was 11-11:30, and I had to get up early the next morning. I was tired. It would have taken another hour or so to add the pages. So please, _please_ stop making comments on my chapter length, unless I really deserve it. I will make them as long as time allows for. Thank you.

Oh, yeah, lol, two notes… Dal Nightson, We're doing "Annie." I'm Tessie, the little orphan girl who won't stop whining.

Er…((coughs)) Three notes? I miss writing to my reviewers… anyway, someone mentioned that they missed my cliffhangers. I'm touched! Therefore, I shall not disappoint them again! ((laughs evilly))

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Masquerade**

For a while Erik and Christine walked in complete silence, both of them lost in thought.

Suddenly, however, Christine remembered something that immediately began to bug her. "Erik…when you told Carlotta to tell the managers you had a gift for them…what did you mean?"

He turned to look at her, and for a moment he looked confused.

"When you were letting her out of the torture room." Christine explained.

Realization came to his eyes, and he smiled thinly. "You'll see."

After that, she couldn't get any more out of him.

By the time they reached her dressing room, Christine was worried. "Erik…what are you planning?"

His smile grew, and his eyes sparkled, but he would say nothing except, "I told you, you'll see."

"But—"

Erik turned back into the passageway, and dissolved into the shadows.

"Christine!" Meg had been passing her friend's dressing room at the moment, and had happened to catch sight of Christine through the open door.

Christine turned and smiled. "Meg! Back from ballet practice already?"

Meg nodded, "Mother cut it short today. She wanted us to get ready for… oh! You wouldn't know, would you?"

Christine's smile slowly faded. "About what?"

"Late last night, at the last minute, Monsieur's Andre and Firmin declared that tonight there would be a masquerade. I think they wanted to stir up some fun. Isn't it exciting?!"

Christine grinned at her friend's excitement. "It sounds great. Is everyone invited?"

"Everyone who wants to come! _You're_ going, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure. I don't have a costume—"

"_Christine! _Come on, you can't make me go alone! I won't know anyone there!"

Christine laughed, "Meg, you'll know everyone in the chorus! Not to mention the ballet…and what about your mother?"

Meg wrinkled her nose. "My _mother_? It's a party, and you want me hanging out with my _mother?!_"

Christine tried to keep a straight face. "Oh, well, Meg, I'll try to find something to wear."

"Thank you! I have to go get ready…" with that, she dashed from the room.

Christine sighed and turned to her closet. She supposed she could find _something…_

When she opened the doors to it, she gasped at what she saw.

It was a dress, complete with a dainty mask that went around her eyes.

The dress was long and white, with a shimmering sheen to it. It had a low neckline and sleeves that would rest on her shoulders. There were tiny diamonds curling around the bottom, creating an image that looked like a vine. The glistening train fell from her waist and would extend two feet behind her as she walked.

Christine touched the material, and realized in an instant that it was silk.

The dress must have cost a fortune! She didn't have to think hard about who had gotten it for her… But when had he gotten it in her closet? She never saw him come in…

"Oh, I couldn't…" Christine whispered to herself. "I couldn't wear it… What if I spill something on it…"

Still, she had nothing else to wear. Besides, if she didn't wear it, it might offend him.

"I'll just have to be extra careful." She reassured herself.

Then she slipped off the costume she had borrowed from Erik's collection, and slowly pulled on the beautiful dress.

Then she went to the mirror to fix her hair.

Christine tried fixing her hair several different ways, but couldn't get it to look right. Finally, exasperated, she left it down.

Last, she tied on the delicate mask, which also had diamonds around the outside of it.

She smiled at herself in the mirror. She could still tell who she was, of course, but the dress was lovely.

She was just about to turn and leave when something else caught her eye.

Glistening on her dresser was a beautiful silver chain, and on the end there hung a gleaming glass rose.

The detail was so exquisite that it looked almost real, even though it was semi-transparent. She gently picked it up, and fumbled with the clasp as she put it on. Then she looked back at the mirror.

The necklace took her breath away. It was so simple, so fragile-looking… and most of all, it reminded her of _him_.

"Christine!" there was a knock on her door.

"Yes Meg?"

"Come on! I want to be there early."

Christine suppressed a laugh, then walked over to the door and opened it.

Meg looked splendid in a pale pink dress that had a floaty quality to it. The neckline was even lower than Christine's, however, and she wondered what Madame Giry would think of it.

"Don't tell." Meg said, as if she could read her friend's mind. "Mother would be so angry… we'll have to avoid her at the party."

For the first time, seemingly, Meg looked at Christine's dress.

There was a long pause as her eyes widened.

"Christine! Where did you _get_…how did you _afford_…" she stammered.

Christine blushed. "It …It was a present."

"You told me you had nothing to wear!" the ballet girl teased, "You little liar!"

"I didn't lie! I just didn't know at the time that I had it…"

Meg blinked at her for a moment, confused, and then abruptly realized who the "present" would be from. She smiled slyly.

"Oh, you didn't tell me he was going."

"He isn't."

"Really? How do you know? I thought that before you didn't even _know_ that there was a masquerade, so—"

"I thought that he didn't know either! But obviously he must have found out somehow…"

"The managers have been planning it for months! They just didn't tell us until this afternoon. Talk about last-minute! La Carlotta is angry with them… Did you know that she just got back too? None of us could find her for rehearsals."

Christine forced a grin. "…Really…"

Meg frowned. "Do you know something about it?"

"It's not important, Meg."

The ballet girl gave her a probing look, and then shrugged. "Fine, then, let's go!"

She bounced off down the hallway.

Christine couldn't stop from rolling her eyes and laughing at her friend, then ran to catch up with her.

The two entered into the great hall where the masquerade was going to take place together.

"Oh…it's so beautiful!" Meg exclaimed at once.

Christine bit back yet another laugh. "It's the same as it always looks, Meg."

The ballet girl shot her friend a glare. "Shh! Of course it isn't. It has one of those little tables with refreshments on it."

There were only several people there so far, and all of them where whispering and gossiping among themselves.

Finally, the small orchestra that Andre and Firmin had hired to play the music began their pieces.

More people filed in by the minute. Some of them Christine could recognize, but some of them looked utterly foreign to her.

The rest of the ballet girls entered a little while later, and they all came over to chat and have a nice gossip. Immediately they began to ask Christine awkward questions about her attire, which she answered as best as she could.

The room was full when La Carlotta arrived at the top of the steps, a smug look on her face.

However, you could barely see her underneath of her dress. The article of clothing was immense, and took up nearly half of the great staircase as she sauntered down it. Every inch of the fabric was covered in glistening fake jewels, in various colors.

It almost looked like a stage costume, it was so flamboyant.

No one chose to comment on this, however, and the Prima Donna obviously thought she was the belle of the ball.

Already the ballet girls were snickering and making jokes behind cupped hands. Christine thought she heard Meg say something like, _"Her dress is nearly as overdone as her voice!"_

Christine couldn't help but giggle lightly at that.

A few moments later, a young man asked Christine for a dance. She agreed, because she was starting to get bored. After that, another man asked her for a dance.

And then another.

Finally she was worn out, and refused to dance anymore for the moment. It was fun, but tiring.

She looked over to where her friends were seated and chuckled lightly as she saw Madame Giry had found the ballet girls, and was now angrily scolding Meg for her apparel.

"_You look like a little prostitute, Meg Giry! Change that dress immediately!"_

"_But _mother_, it's just for the party!"_

"_Did you hear me?"_

"_But—"_

"_Now!"_

Meg gave her mother a wounded look and began towards the door.

Christine was about to walk after her when she heard an unwanted, though familiar, voice behind her.

"Zo! Zee leetle brat 'as come!"

Christine hesitantly turned to face Carlotta. "What is it you want, Madame?"

"I vas just going to zee eef I could find out where oo got zat _'ideous _dress."

"It was a present." Christine told her coldly. "If that is all you wanted, then I think I'll take my leave."

"But zat eesn't all! I vas just going to zay, how ees your leetle ghost friend? Recovering from zat bullet, ees 'ee?"

Christine went white with rage. "How _dare_ you, you foul woman! Leave me alone, I wasn't bugging you!"

By now, they had the attention of half of the people at the party.

"Ooh, zee poor thing ees _offended._"

Christine's hands were balled up into fists, and she was trembling in her anger.

"_Leave me alone!"_

Suddenly Carlotta's eyes caught her necklace. "Vat ees _zis?_"

She reached out and, before Christine could even react, snatched it from around her neck, breaking the chain.

Christine cried out and tried to take it back, but Carlotta backed up, a horrible sneer on her face.

She dropped the necklace to the floor, where it made a small tinkling sound as it hit the hard marble.

Christine couldn't bear to look down at it, sure that it was broken.

Carlotta was frowning, however, and so she chanced a glance. The rose pendent lay on the cold white marble, quite whole.

The Prima Donna snarled with rage and walked over to it. "Let's zee eet survive _zis_!" She cried, and raised her foot. She was about to bring it down on the necklace when a smooth, menacing voice sounded in her ear.

"_You step on that, Madame Toad, and I will seriously reconsider killing you after all. My torture chamber is still open to guests."_

Carlotta went white, and whirled around to see two malevolent golden eyes gleaming out at her from behind a death's head.

She shrieked and backed away as the Red Death moved closer, then swiftly scooped up the pretty little rose from the floor and offered it to Christine.

Christine could only stare at him.

(A/N: Yay! ((sings)) Masquerade… paper faces on parade…masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you!)

(A/N#2: If any of you want to, feel free to IM me... my screen name is Zifnabiskewl. I may not be on too often, though. Please don't try to e-mail me, as my e-mail currently isn't working. Thank you! Oh, you can also keep up-to-date with my bio! There's something on there that I'm taking off soon.)

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
...Hilary...


	27. Don Juan Triumphant

(A/N: You know what? I don't care anymore. I'm responding to each and every one of you, even if it DOES take forever! I want you all to know that I truly don't take any one of you for granted, and you don't know how happy it makes me when I see I have a new reviewer!

Anyway, here you go:

**c-dog:** Lol, yeah, finally! After dancing with all of those annoying men who thought she was rich and pretty… Thank you for reviewing so faithfully!

**Orelinde Sirfalas:** Oh, come on… they can't be _literally _killing you. Otherwise, you'd be dead right now. Lol. Yeah, I'm still trying to work in a way to get rid of Carlotta…

**Angelic Lawyer:** I'm so glad that you liked my descriptions! Yay, I was worried about that. The major fault in my writing is lack of description, because I get too caught up in the dialogue. Anyway, thank you so much! And thank you for reviewing so much. It helps me to update quicker, because I don't want to disappoint anyone… I know that when I'm on here and the stories I read aren't updated, I kind of sigh and debate on what is going to happen next all over again…

**Black Cat Gurl:** Wow, thank you so much! I'm glad that you like my story. I hope you'll keep reading it! It makes me so happy that people on here enjoy it, and that I can give them something that they apparently like to read. Thank you again!

**Amber Stag:** Yeah, masquerade is one of my favorite scenes too. Surprisingly, my one friend hates that scene. _How_ can you hate that scene, I ask you? HOW?

**Allison:** Yeah, they have problems with the relationship, and that does make it longer. Lol, I guess you like that it's longer? And since when do cliffhangers kill people? Well, besides Christophe… ((covers mouth)) Oh, that was horrible… lol! Sorry…  
Oh, A DRAGONLANCE FAN! YAY! Lol, on these Phantom boards, it makes me wonder what people think of my name… I LOVE dragonlance, they're my favorite books! I also have a story in that section, but it's humor.

**All Apologies:** Thanks! You're one of the people that review a lot, too! When I look over the reviews, it always ends up that I don't know who half of the people are, because new people read it. It's nice to see a familiar name! I'm so glad that you like my story, and are apparently sticking with me! Thank you again!

**EarthDragonette:** Yeah… no Raoul! ((Waves flag and dances)) Lol, I really dislike him… Which is one of the reasons I wrote this story!  
I'm glad that you enjoy it so far, and I hope that you'll stick with me! :)

**HPOTOV:** Wow, thank you for the comment on Carlotta's accent. It takes me forever to do it, because I have to sit and really _think_ about what she would sound like, then figure out how it would look on the screen. Out of everything, I think that it takes up the most time just deciding how to do her accent! Odd, isn't it? Lol, but thanks for noticing! It pleases me beyond all belief that this is one of your favorites! Thank you!

**Kianra:** Yeah. Hi Kara. I already talked to you, but apparently you get "offended" if I don't reply to your response in my fic… ((rolls eyes)) Why can't I just talk to you on the phone and get it over with? This is taking up space… ((sticks tongue out at her best friend)) Okay, well… ((snorts, then says in a high, false voice)) Thanks for reading! (Btw...yay! Tomorrow you can post again!)

**Rosakara13:** Lol, so would I! My dream dress, and my dream guy… ((Sighs)) Don't we all, want him, though? Lol…

**ButterflyOfLothlorien:** Lol, that was one of my favorite lines when I was writing it! It gave me a little chuckle… I could so see Erik saying that…  
Well, here's the next chapter! This one will probably be my longest yet because of all of my responses to reviews! lol!

**Lackaz:** Yay! Someone who likes my grammar! Lol, another thing I'm always worried about… I hate it when I get on and try to read something, and it has bad grammar, but an amazing plot! It makes me frustrated… anyway, thank you for the comment!  
I'm glad you took the time to read my story too! I'm also happy that you don't think I ramble… Good… Cause I ramble a lot and am horrible random in real life, so it comforts me that my story isn't like that! hehehehe. Yay, you like my small chapters! And…my legions of fans? Lol, do you really think I have legions of fans? ((Looks around)) Oh. Yeah… Lol, when I first started this, there were only five or six people reading it. Now I get 30-40 reviews every time I update! I guess it shouldn't surprise me any more, but yet every time I get on, I never fail to be amazed…

**draegon-fire:** You have a feeling? Well, you'll have to find out in this chapter! …btw… you're feeling is right… ((cough, cough))

**phtmangl1013:** Yes, another person who doesn't mind my short chapters! Good!  
Oh, I know, I would _love_ to have that necklace! I wonder if I could get it made… and yes, you find out in this chapter what Erik is up to… though I should think you would have guessed…

**kiss-of-cuteness:** Oh, I love how they did this scene in the movie! It was awesome! Lol, yeah, I thought that that dress sounded just like something Carlotta would wear… Actually, I think you find out in this chapter what the pendent was made out of. Christine originally thought that it was glass, but she isn't right. Lol, yeah, it's going to be fun to write the reactions!

**Alelera:** Well, I make them as long as I can, but I'm glad that you like them anyway! This chapter will probably only be long because of all of the responses to the reviews! Anyway, I try to update as much as possible to make up for my short chapters. I'm glad you enjoy my fic, please keep with me! :)

**Sugargult Babe:** Hehehe… how can I ignore someone admitting they like my cliffhangers? Lol, I know, I can't wait to write the reactions… so much fun! Actually, Meg is still there, as you'll find out. She was almost at the door when Carlotta started bugging Christine. ((Sings along with her)) Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you…

**Moonlightrosegoddess:** Hey, I read your story! I got kind of confused, but liked it anyway. Update soon!

**Possumgurl:** Oh, I know! I would have _loved_ to have her take him up on the offer! But, unfortunately, it would have been out of character… ((sighs))  
Shhh! No, the sequel musn't be mentioned on here! ((clamps hand over mouth)) … Crap …

**LittleLottie05:** You're welcome! Thanks for all of your reviews! I wish I could reply to them more often!

**Aislin of the Shadows:** Oooh, how dare you read my fic instead of update?! When it comes to priorities, UPDATE YOUR FIC! Lol, Kara asked me first thing this morning, "Did Aislin update yet?" And I had to tell her no… and _why? _Because you were reading _my_ fic. Kara made a face at me. So UPDATE!  
I'm glad you liked this chapter… But I would have liked it more had you _updated_ as well!  
UPDATE!

**fell4adeadguy:** Oh, don't worry, you couldn't possibly be as bad at dancing as I am! lol…  
I know! I want a necklace like that too! I want to get one made a jewelers…  
Originally, I had it planned that Carlotta crushed it, but I couldn't bear for it to be broken!

**Blue Eyes At Night:** Yeah, I loved his costume for Red Death, so I stuck with it. I'm glad you like my story so much! Thanks!

**Phantomraver:** Yay, apparently that chapter was pretty well liked. Thank you so much for your reviews!!!!! (lol, five quotation marks! Sorry… you have to read Terry Prachett to get that… He wrote a take off of the Phantom of the Opera called Maskerade. He writes humor… it was hilarious! I'd recommend it!)

**Liz:** Of course your not just "one out of hundreds of reviews" I'm glad that you did review, because I always like to hear that someone is enjoying my story. It makes me happy to know that they are happy.  
Actually, I don't know the poem. What was it?

**Softiful:** ((Sighs)) Yeah, I wish he would too… I mean, it _is_ my story, and I _could_ make him, but that isn't right. Besides, Christine would be angry. I'm still looking for a way to kill Carlotta off though…

**Immokk:** Lol! Don't read my story instead of doing your essay! I'm flattered you did though! lol…

**Roccovende:** Lol, running out of things to say? hehehe. No, I love listening to people ramble, so ramble all you want! Be incredibly random! It's fun. Go ahead. Lol, I know, I always mess up the lyrics to "Masquerade" too, even though I'm not exactly a new phan.

**faerluthio:** Oh gosh, lol, mine have threatened to gag me for singing the theme song, (particularly the end), Music of the night, and Past the Point of No Return. I picked the dress and the necklace that I thought was pretty, and that I wanted. Lol, glad you like Carlotta! AND my cliffies! Yeah! Most people don't admit to liking them… Maybe because most of them don't… ((ponders this for a moment)) Nah! Everyone _loves_ cliffhangers!

**pandagal:** Lol, that was one of my favorite parts to write as well. Meg got caught… hehehe… I had a problem for a little bit with what Madame Giry would say she looked like, and ended up with prostitute. It was originally 'slut' but I didn't like it because it sounded too harsh…

**AshelytheStrange:** You got kicked off?! ((glares at people)) Why did you get kicked off?! Is it just a suspension, or did they kick you off for good?  
Anyway, there were quite a _few_ people who admitted to liking my cliffhangers. So there! ((laughs evilly))

**Dalamar Nightson:** Lol, glad you liked this chapter! No, I'm not going to make Carlotta step on it just so she can get killed! (Lol… right now I'm imagining Carlotta stepping on the pendent, then it shattering and getting little splinters caught in her foot…and then her complaining that it hurt her…and_ then_ Erik killing her… LOL! You thought _you_ were in a morbid thought?! :D

**dancerofpointe:** Wow, thank you so much! I'm glad that you liked it! Lol, you wanted to read the next chapter? Well, here it is! Sorry for the little delay, there…

**neo-lover72:** Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it!

**Han Futsu; Anti Normal:** Hmmm… how did you guess that it was diamond? I reread the chapter, and I know that I didn't give that away… ah, well, good guess! And yeah… he spends a lot of money on Christine, doesn't he? Glad you liked the humor in the chapter. I needed to lighten it up just a little bit, and since I'm normally a humor writer… I just had fun, lol, thanks for your review!

**bulma-caz:** Ewww, I hate onions… Lol, I wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or a insult… Lol, j/k. Thank you for the… um… lolly pop? Lol.

**Ceez:** I'm so sorry for that comment in the last chapter! I was tired, and I hope I didn't make you feel bad or offend you! A thousand apologies! Lol, You say you redefine insane… I redefine insaner! (Lol… Kara and I have a name on called "Insane and Insaner"… guess which I am? You know, someone threw a note at their friend in class yesterday, and it nearly hit me, so I hissed at them like a cat. It took me a few seconds to realize why they were giving me an odd look…

**Graymoon74:** Yay, I'm glad you're all caught up! Thank you for all of your really, really nice comments on my story! Lol, it was like you were addicted to it… reading it on the treadmill? LOL! Thank you so much!

**Lusiki:** Wow, thanks for saying that my Erik is the best… ((under breath)) Gosh, don't I wish he was _my_ Erik… ((Sighs dreamily)) Er…anyway… Lol, glad that you liked the nickname! I thought it was okay… And it so fits Carlotta!

**Moonjava:** Wow, one of the better ones! You people flatter me… ((blushes)) Thank you!

**galebalesh:** Thanks for taking time to read it! I'm so glad that you enjoyed it. :)

_Thank you all so much for your reviews! I really, really enjoy reading them! Sorry for taking up all of this space… but… I just really wanted to respond!_

_And now, we finally begin the chapter! ((listens to sighs of relief and laughs nervously))_

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Don Juan Triumphant**

Without looking around at everyone's faces, Christine reached out and carefully took back the pendent.

"Thank you."

She could hear whispering begin like wildfire, spreading all throughout the room. The musicians had stopped playing their music and were looking around for the cause of the sudden lack of dancing.

Abruptly the stillness was broken by loud, drunken voices as two men entered the room, laughing heartily.

The Red Death smiled grotesquely as he turned to face the two managers as they sauntered in, not yet aware that anything was wrong.

"_Ah, my managers."_

Firmin and Andre stopped talking and laughing to stare at him, befuddled. It looked as though they were trying to place him.

"Er… Good'evenin' monsieur," Andre began. He had not yet connected the man in the Red Death costume with the Opera Ghost. "Enjoying the party?"

There were a few snickers around the room as people quickly realized the two had had a bit too much to drink.

The Red Death took a few smooth steps towards them, quickly covering the distance. _"Of course. A pity, though, as soon as I got here all of the festivities seem to have ended."_

Firmin gestured irritably at the orchestra to keep playing their music. "Monsieur, we're very sorry about the inconvenience. Why've you all stopped dancing?" he suddenly shouted at the people, who just watched him with amused faces.

Meg, who hadn't made it to the door before the entrance of the Red Death, hurried over to Christine's side.

"I told you he would come!" she whispered into her friend's ear.

Christine shot her friend a look, then turned her gaze back to Erik, who was still toying with the managers. She could see by his eyes that he was inwardly laughing at them.

"He's up to something, Meg." she hissed back at her friend, "I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid…"

Erik glanced quickly at her as if he had heard, then turned back to Firmin and Andre.

"_I just wanted to comment on the new chandelier. Very pretty."_

"Yeah, it is, 'sn't it?" Andre said dreamily.

"Cost a heck of a lot of money, though. Darn that idiotic so-called "Ghost" for ruining …the last… one…" Firmin had finally taken in the man standing before him, and a spark of realization leapt to his eyes. His mouth fell open, and his look so resembled a fish out of the water that even Christine had to grin.

Andre, however, remained blissfully unaware of this information.

"Was' everybody starin' for?" he asked Firmin, who just mouthed wordlessly.

_Darn… what was _wrong_ with these people? _Andre wondered.Everyone was just looking at him blankly! …That was funny… some of them seemed to be laughing at him…

Andre turned his attention to the man in the Red Death costume, who seemed like the only one he'd be able to hold a decent conversation with.

"So, do 'oo come to dah opera often?" he slurred.

"_Every opening night."_

"Really? You mus' truly enjoy the singin'."

Firmin moaned and smacked his forehead, amazed at his partner's stupidity. "Andre…" he began warningly, but his partner waved him away angrily.

"Can' you see I'm in the middle of a conversation?" he demanded, then turned back to the Red Death. "If you wan' I can reserve a seat for you ahead of time…"

"_I believe my seat is already reserved."_

Andre blinked. "Really? I don' remember reserving one… Where d'you sit?"

"_Box Five."_

"Box Five?" the drunken man scrunched up his face, as though trying to recall something important. "Bu' doesn't tha' fellow… tha' Opera Ghost sit in Box Five?"

The Red Death just stared at him.

Slowly, the facts began connecting, and Andre gaped. "Firmin! Do you know who dis is? It's the bloody Opera Ghos—"

"You idiot! Shut up!" Firmin snapped.

The Red Death chuckled slightly. _"What's the matter, good messieurs, did you think I wouldn't come?"_

The managers exchanged glances that said clearly that yes, indeed, they thought he wouldn't come.

"_Well, my good messieurs, I have written you an opera!" _He removed a bound manuscript from a deep pocket in his robe and threw it at Andre, who caught it and staggered a little.

"_Don Juan Triumphant! But I warn you that _my_ opera must be perfect…and therefore, Carlotta is placed with the chorus. I would prefer it if she lip-syncs. Remember that I instructed that Piangi lose some weight? Well, he hasn't yet, but before my opera he shall. Remember to keep Box Five reserved for me, and that my salary is due at the end of the month."_

He took a step back and, after bowing slightly to Christine, threw something to the ground.

There was a flash and a plume of smoke arouse. _"Au revoir, good messieurs!" _

When the smoke cleared, the Red Death was gone.

There was a shocked silence, and then Andre's voice could be heard saying, "Wow, Firmin, look! He wrote us an opera! Wasn' that nice?"

xxxxx

Christine stood in the shadows as the music resumed, and one-by-one people began dancing once more.

No one else asked her to dance, but that was fine with her. Vaguely, she wished that Erik had stayed to accompany her, but she quickly waved that away. It was good he _hadn't_ stayed—he could have been caught! How had he dared even _come_?! He was lucky Carlotta hadn't immediately run off and got the police.

Now that she thought about it…where _was _Carlotta?

"Christine!" Meg broke of her train of thought as she ran over, grinning from ear to ear. She was still in the pink dress, which made Christine guess that Madame Giry had thought her daughter had left.

"That was so funny!" she breathed, "Did you see the look on Firmin's face when he realized it was the ghost?! And then Andre!" she broke off into gales of laughter.

When she finally stopped, she looked up at Christine seriously and said, "So…What's his opera like? I'm assuming you've heard it before? What was it called…Don Juan Triumphant."

Christine nodded. "I've heard it before…" she trailed off.

"And?" Meg pressed, "What's it like?"

There was a pause as Christine searched for the right words. "…Angry. And passionate, too. It's going to be a difficult opera, and Erik won't settle for anything less than perfect, you know…"

Meg hesitated, then grinned. "Don't worry about it! He gave you the main part, no doubt, and he wouldn't have if he didn't think you could do it. _I _have faith in you!"

Christine smiled at her friend, then attempted to change the subject. She looked around for something to talk about, and her gaze fell on the rose pendent that was still clutched in her hand.

Meg saw what she was looking at and frowned. "What's it made of? I thought it would have broken when Carlotta dropped it."

"So did I." Christine admitted, glancing sadly at the broken chain.

"Let me see." Meg cautiously took it from her hands and tested it on her fingernail. Then, before Christine could protest, she took out one of her metal hairpins and scratched it on one of the petals.

For a moment she peered closely at it, then grinned and nodded. "That's what I thought. It's diamond."

Christine's eyes flew wide open as Meg handed it back. She had never owned anything so valuable in her life. "It…it must have cost a fortune!" she whispered, "Thank goodness Carlotta didn't break it!"

"I know. Something tells me that the Phantom wouldn't have been happy with her."

"Erik. Call him Erik. By the way—did you notice that Carlotta is missing?"

Meg snorted. "How could I not? The room got suddenly much bigger without her taking up half of it…"

Christine laughed. "Yes, I just hope that she isn't up to something."

But Carlotta's always up to something… we know that by now…

(A/N: The responses to the reviews weren't longer than the story! ((casts nervous glances around at everyone)) What?! They weren't… they just…erm… _looked_ that way…

Lol, if any of you want, I'll say it once more, my AIM screen name is Zifnabiskewl. I'd be happy to chat with one of you! Unfortunately, that's the only way I'll be able to because my E-mail is currently not working. If you give me your screen name, I'll add it to my buddy list and IM you. Thanks!)


	28. The Accident

(A/N: ((rubs hands together)) I've wanted to write this chapter for a while now…)

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Accident**

Carlotta was in Christine's dressing room, searching for the catch on the mirror. There_ had _to be one—she had spied on Daae one night, and saw her go through it.

However hard she searched, though, she couldn't get it.

In rage, she grabbed Christine's heavy metal hairbrush from the dresser and flung it with all her might at the mirror.

There came the loud, earth-shattering sound of breaking glass, then an eerie silence.

Carlotta looked up to see, through a ragged glass frame, a dark passageway.

Suddenly, she was nervous. She looked at the revolver she had in her hand, then gained courage. _'He's just a man…and all men can die.'_

Besides, he had threatened her role of Prima Donna! _No_ one threatened her career!

She ducked through the broken glass and into the passageway.

xxxxx

Apparently, everyone had gotten over the Phantom's sudden appearance and disappearance, for now they were all dancing and laughing again.

Meg and Christine sat and talked for a while, but their conversation was interrupted abruptly as Madame Giry burst into the room, eyes searching around until she found Christine.

Silently she beckoned to her, and Christine fearfully approached her, wondering what was wrong. Meg followed after her.

Madame Giry gave Meg's dress a scathing look, then waved it away as unimportant. "Follow me, both of you."

The three walked quickly through the shadowy halls of the Opera House, and Madame Giry began to explain.

"I noticed Carlotta sneaking out of the room after the Phantom disappeared, so I followed her. She went into the managers' office, where she apparently knew a revolver was. After that, she left with the revolver and went to your dressing room, Miss Daae.

"I don't know what made her do it. I didn't think she had the spirit to find the Phantom herself. She may have been just too angry…" She paused, a thoughtful look on her face, "But, more than likely, she was just too drunk."

Christine frowned. They had reached her room, and Madame Giry opened the door.

Both girls gasped.

The floor was littered with broken glass, and the place where the mirror had been now revealed a jagged, gaping hole in the wall.

Christine dashed across the room, ignoring the glass.

"Christine! Wait!" Meg cried, "She has a gun! What if she shoots you?"

But Christine's ears were deaf to her friend's cries as she sped down the dark passageway.

Madame Giry hesitated for a moment, then began to follow her.

"Maman!" Meg cried, then after a moment, "I'm coming with you!"

"No, Meg, you stay."

"But—"

"No buts. And change out of that dress immediately."

Then Madame Giry ducked into the passageway after Christine.

xxxxx

Carlotta had only gone a little way into the passage before she had lost her nerve. If the officers hadn't been able to kill this creature, then how could she?

Frightened and disturbed, she turned to go back, and found she didn't know which way to go.

_Which way _was_ back, for that matter?_

Carlotta turned in circles, looking for any hint of light.

She found none.

Frantic, she picked a direction and ran.

After what seemed like hours, she saw a hint of light ahead. Feeling relieved, she made towards it, only to find that it wasn't the way out after all.

The light revealed a boat, tied on the shore of what looked like an underground lake.

The source of the light was a small lantern hung on the bow of the boat, its light flickering weakly. It was clearly almost distinguished.

How the boat had come to be there, she never found out.

Most likely, Erik had used it to cross to get to the masquerade, and then had taken a different way home, forgetting to extinguish the lantern.

Whatever had happened, Carlotta didn't care. She viewed this as pure luck, and was ready to take advantage of it.

The darkness had all but driven her insane, and since she couldn't get back, she only had one thought in her mind—to kill the Phantom of the Opera.

"There ees no Phantom of the Opera…" she reminded herself quietly as she stepped into the boat, "'E ees a man, and notheeng more…" She grasped the pole and shakily pushed off from the shore.

Just a few feet from the shore, she began to curse. This was harder than she thought it would be!

She dug the pole into the ground and pushed with all of her strength, which only moved the boat another couple feet.

Cursing louder than before, she tried again, but had no more success than before.

"Zhen I'll keep going, leetle by leetle." she said aloud, "Zis 'ghost' must die!" With renewed determination, she pushed a little harder, though she still didn't go much further than two feet.

She moved the pole forward to push again, but found that it was stuck. Oddly, it felt as though someone was holding it back…

xxxxx

Madame Giry caught up with Christine and stopped her with a hand.

Christine looked questioningly at her, and she explained. "You're going the wrong way, child."

Christine sighed and shook her head angrily, "I'm sorry—I've only been down here once before, and I must have found my way to the lake by sheer luck. I have no idea where I'm going."

Madame Giry nodded, then turned her around. "This way. Follow me."

xxxxx

Carlotta yanked on the pole with all of her might, and was horrified to find that there was someone clinging to the end with a scaly arm.

She screamed and dropped the pole into the water, where it sank to the bottom.

She quickly found that this was a stupid move, however, for she was now stranded in the middle of the lake with no way to go further.

She let out a string of angry, frightened curses.

Suddenly, she broke off with another shrill shriek. The creature that had been holding the pole was now slowly tipping the boat over…

Carlotta fell partway into the water, and then grabbed the boat to stop from falling all of the way in.

A cold, clammy hand fastened around her ankle, and she cried out, kicking at it.

The creature was stronger than she had expected though, and she couldn't stop it from pulling her down…

Carlotta let out one last cry, then was submerged in the cold water.

No one ever saw her again.

xxxxx

Erik had just finished changing out of his Red Death costume when he heard the shrieks. Thinking that it was Christine, he rushed out to look at the lake.

The screams had stopped by the time he had reached the door, however, and now the lake was still…

(A/N: Okay, I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday. I've been scheming ways to kill Carlotta for a while now, and I was having trouble how. Then I remembered the Siren… Gotta love the Siren!!!!! Lol, I thought of several ways, but decided that I wanted her to be killed by her own stupidity…

Anyway, tell me what you think! I don't know how everyone will take this chapter. I highly doubt that any of you are going to be depressed at Carlotta's death... but you never know...)


	29. Across the Lake

(A/N: Okay, I love that the fact that in the last chapter Carlotta died, but I still have to say that that was probably my least favorite chapter so far that I wrote.

For those of you who didn't understand what killed her: Ah, you must not have read the book. Sorry! There is a Siren that lives in Erik's lake, and when anyone other than him tries to cross it, she drowns them.

To everyone: I'm sorry about not updating for two days, I couldn't find time! Sorry again!)

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Across the Lake**

Christine followed Madame Giry through the dark passageways, and at last they reached the lake.

It was still and silent, but oddly…

Christine frowned. "What is the boat doing in the middle of the lake?"

Madame Giry didn't answer right away, staring at the boat. "I'm not sure… It might mean… But I can't be positive…"

Christine was about to ask what she meant, but abruptly Madame Giry turned and strode back off into the passageways.

Quickly she ran after her, but then tripped and fell in the darkness. "Madame Giry, wait! Where is Carlotta? I don't understand…"

xxxxx

Meg stood in Christine's dressing room, debating on going after her mother after all. After a moment, though, she brushed the idea aside. If she had, she would probably have gotten lost, and that wouldn't have helped at all.

Instead, she contented herself with the only thing she could help with at the moment—she began to pick up the shattered glass to the mirror.

When she had most of the bigger pieces collected, she found a broom and brushed the small ones away from the ruined mirror and into a pile in the corner.

She surveyed her work and nodded. It would have to do until she could find a dust bin.

Meg suddenly jumped as she heard voices in the hallway. They were close—why hadn't she heard them before?! They sounded angry, and Meg realized with panic that they were the voices of the managers.

She turned to face the shattered mirror. _What to do?!_

Her eyes found Christine's dresser, and she quickly ran over it and began to push it across the room to the empty frame.

She had just finished when the managers walked in.

"Meg Giry? What are you doing here? Where's Ms. Daae?" Firmin asked.

Andre just smiled and waved at her, and she forced a smile back. He was obviously still very drunk.

"She's out at the moment, but she'll be back soon, I think. Is there something you wanted to tell her?"

Firmin sighed. "She probably could guess, anyway, as the ghost seems to fancy her for some reason, but she has secured the largest role in his opera. We were just going to give her some of the music to practice…"

"I'll give it to her." Meg offered. Then, curiously, she added, "So you _are_ going to perform it?"

Firmin gave her a sour look. "Do we have any _choice_? Here is Mademoiselle Daae's music."

Meg carefully took it from him, and then the managers left.

She breathed a sigh of relief and set the music on the bed.

Then her gaze turned back to the pile of glass in the corner. _'I'll have to find a dust bin before someone notices.'_ she thought, then turned to go look for one.

However, the doorway was blocked by a shadowy figure.

Meg gasped as she realized that it was the Phantom… or Erik, she supposed.

She was about to ask why he was here, but he spoke first. His voice sounded worried—almost frantic.

"Where is Christine?"

"S-she went to look for you." Meg stuttered.

Erik groaned and leaned against the doorway. "When?" he whispered.

"A little while ago… maybe ten or twenty minutes?" suddenly Meg was worried, too. "Why? What's wrong?"  
Erik shook his head and wouldn't answer. Then he looked up and noticed that the dresser was pushed in front of the mirror. He frowned.

"Why is the mirror blocked?"

Meg flushed. "Oh… I… well…Carlotta, you see, she was going to…and she threw Christine's hairbrush at… So she could get through, you see… and she… Well, she broke it."

Erik waved that away, too upset to worry much about the broken mirror. He was too troubled about Christine to think of anything else.

"She… she wouldn't have tried to cross the lake, would she?"

"In what? The boat that the Persian took me back in?" she asked curiously. "Well, yes, I suppose. She was really upset and wanted to see you… so, probably…"

Erik closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. "Was she alone?"

"No…" the panic was beginning to well up inside of Meg, "M-my mother was with her."

Erik's head snapped up and he stared at her. After a tense moment, he said, "Follow me."

He walked out into the hallway, and after a moment Meg followed out of sheer curiosity.

She followed him around to the back entrance to his home—the one that went through the torture room—and then he led her out of the front door again.

"We couldn't take the shorter route, over the lake." He explained, "And that is why."

Erik pointed out to the middle of the lake, where the boat floated.

Meg gave him a puzzled look. "What happened?"

"I'm not worried about the boat. The Siren will bring it back. But…"

"The Siren? What happened?"

Erik sighed. "If anyone other than me tries to cross in that boat, the Siren in the lake drowns them." his voice broke about halfway through, and he turned away, trying to compose himself again.

"That is why I asked you where Christine was." he whispered. "I heard someone crying out, but by the time I got out here… It was too late."

Meg could only stare, stunned and dazed. _Christine? And… her mother had been with Christine…_

She fell to her knees and stared off into the darkness. "No… no… that can't be right! It can't be!"

xxxxx

Madame Giry turned around and calmly took Christine's shoulders. "I think that Carlotta is dead, child."

Christine's skin whitened several shades. "W-what do you mean… he didn't kill…" she trailed off, eyes wide with horror.

"No."

Christine sighed, relieved. "Then why do you think that?"

Madame Giry gestured to the boat. "I think she drowned. Quite frankly, I don't mind much. I want to make sure Meg didn't follow us, now, though. She could be lost in the passages…"

Then Madame Giry turned and started to walk off again.

Christine was about to follow, when she heard someone cry out from across the lake. It was too far for her to see who it was, but the cavern was huge, and the voice echoed. Christine knew at once who it was, and so did Madame Giry.

"Meg!" they both chorused.

"That foolish girl! How did she get over there?"

Christine stared across the lake. "The other door… She could have used the other door, because she wanted to see what was going on, I suppose. But why is she crying? What—"

She suddenly stopped and frowned. "We have to see what's going on."

(Okay... so it's short again. I'm sorry! I got caught up in other things I was doing... ((cough)) such as talking to people who read this fic and IMed me... ((cough))

Lol, But I love it when people IM me, so remember, my name is Zifnabiskewl!

...Hilary...

(PS--Erik is still in the stunned/shocked mode. He thinks Christine might have died, but he's not willing to believe it yet. Believe me, the reaction is more emotional later...)


	30. Inconvenient Timing

(A/N: Okay, I have a confession to make. I totally messed up. I know. ((sighs)) I haven't read the book for a while, and read too much fanfiction where the siren was actually a siren. Yeah, I realize now that it was actually Erik. ((smacks head repeatedly on table)) SORRY! I'm sososososo sorry! I hope I haven't confused any of you overly much! In my story, the Siren is actually going to be a siren, and not Erik. Also, for whoever asked, Erik took Meg with him because he thinks that Madame Giry drowned too, now. Okay, here's to the next chapter! Hope I don't mess this one up too…)

(A/N#2: Okay, tonight I'm updating twice because a deal I made with Color Me In on I told her that if she updated twice, so would I. So you're getting two chapters. Just thought I'd warn you. I would recommend reading her fic, Soul Consumption. It's awesome.)

**Chapter Thirty: Inconvenient Timing**

Madame Giry quickly led the way back through the passages, then around backstage to the door to the torture room. Luckily, it was unlocked.

They both hurried in, shutting the door carefully behind them.

Christine frowned once they were in there. The opposite door—the one that led to Erik's lair—was open.

This time Christine took the lead, and they rushed through Erik's house, looking for any sign of either Meg or Erik.

Madame Giry's composed look had completely vanished. Her black hair was beginning to come out of the precise black bun it was always in, and her face was white and frightened looking.

"Don't worry, we'll find her." Christine reassured her, concerned. "She's probably fine."

Madame Giry nodded stiffly. "Let's keep looking."

xxxxx

Erik stared blankly across the lake.

Distantly, he could hear Meg crying in the background. He did pity her, for she had lost her mother _and _her friend…

But he had lost his Angel.

Suddenly Erik felt dizzy, what had happened finally beginning to sink in on him. _"Christine…"_

He swayed slightly, and nearly fell over.

He would never hear her voice—so angelic and innocent—again. He would never see her face again. He was alone.

Letting out a quiet, choked sob of despair, he fell to his knees and covered his face. _Why? Why Christine? Why now?_

Suddenly he was angry. Life wasn't fair! After a life of misery God had finally given him all the happiness and joy he'd ever wanted—only to snatch it away from him again! Was it not possible to lead a happy life on this earth?!

Erik suddenly made up his mind and shakily got back to his feet, taking a step towards the lake.

Meg looked up at him, her eyes glazed over with tears. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

He took a step into the lake, and Meg jumped to her feet. "No—wait! You're not committing suicide, are you?!"

Erik laughed, his voice sounding harsh and distant, even to him. "Of course not. There would be no point in that, would there? After all, I would go to hell, and Christine would be in heaven. No, there isn't a point to that at all." He took another step into the lake.

"Then what are you doing?!"

"Getting to the boat. It's in the middle of the lake." he said lightly, his voice bordering on the edge of hysterical.

"You _are_ committing suicide!"Meg gasped. "No, STOP!"

"I'm not committing suicide." he laughed, "Though I _would_ deserve to burn in hell, wouldn't I? But no… I'm not. Not yet." he waded out until he was about six feet into the lake, where the rock shelf he was standing on stopped.

Meg tried to step in after him, but then quickly jumped back out. "It's freezing! Please, come back, you're scaring me!"

"I have scared many people in my lifetime, Meg. In fact, I'm off to scare more now." he said in a falsely happy way. Then he dove into the lake.

Meg stood alone on the bank, shivering and staring after him. For a long time, he didn't come up, and she wondered if he had decided to kill himself after all.

Just as she was beginning to feel sick, though, she saw him come back up beside the boat, and climb inside.

"But what are you doing?!" she cried.

"Scaring people, didn't I already tell you?"

Knowing that she wasn't going to get a straight answer for him, she tried something else. "What happens to me now? Where do I go?!"

"Wherever you like." he said lightly. "That's not my decision to make."

Then he looked around, cursed, and dove back in the water. Moments later, he came up with the pole in his hand.

"Y-you didn't …_see_… anyone down there… did you?" Meg asked, voice trembling.

"I didn't look." Erik said flatly.

"Oh." At least he wasn't sounding hysterical anymore… Meg reasoned. She didn't want to be down here with a mad man.

Meg almost laughed at the irony of it. Many people would say he already _was_ a mad man…

She smiled wryly as she realized that _she _was bordering on hysterical herself. Suddenly she didn't really care anymore, though. She thought about returning to the opera house, and her throat tightened. _No…I can't…not without Maman. I knew I should never have let her go!_

Meg burst into fresh tears and collapsed back on the ground. _I can't stay here either…_

After a moment, she took a deep breath and stood, brushing herself off. She was still wearing that dress that her mother hated…

She sniffed and looked over at the lake.

Erik was gone.

She sighed and shivered. _Alone again…_

And now she would always be alone. Maman was no longer there to guide her… Christine was no longer there to laugh with her and be her friend.

Just like Erik, she was alone.

Meg whimpered slightly, then jumped as she heard voices.

"W-who's there?!"

There was a long pause, then…

"Meg! There you are!"

Christine rushed out of the doorway, Madame Giry right behind her.

Meg only watched them in shock for a while, her brain having trouble registering this new information.

Christine laughed, "Wow, you certainly gave us a fright! We heard you across the lake and—"

Meg gazed incredulously at them. "_I_ gave _you_ a fright?! HA!" Suddenly she clutched her head. "Ooh no… I've gone delusional… You can't be real… This is all my imagination playing tricks on me and—"

"Meg Giry, stop rambling!" Madame Giry ordered.

Meg just stared at her.

Madame Giry spoke again, this time her voice more gentle. "What have you been up to Meg? Why are you down here? I told you not to follow us." she paused, and then added, "And you're _still_ wearing that dress!"

"I didn't follow you, truly!" Meg stammered, "Erik brought me down here and—"

"Erik?" Christine asked suddenly, "What does Erik have to do with this?"  
The ballet girl turned to look at her friend. "H-he thinks you're dead. So did I. The boat... was in the middle of the lake… and you never made it here… so I thought that… and so did he, because he heard screaming… and when he got out here…"

Christine went dead white. "He thinks I'm dead?"

Meg nodded, then smiled, feeling faint with relief. "But you aren't! You're okay! What happened? Why was the boat in the middle of the lake?"  
"Carlotta." Madame Giry said simply, unable to stop just a tad bit of smugness from creeping into her voice.

"Where is he?" Christine asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Where is Erik?!"  
Meg blinked, then slowly paled. "H-he left. He dove into the water and swam to the boat… and then he left."

Christine closed her eyes, took a breath, then asked, "Did he say where he was going?"

Meg shook her head. "He started to sound hysterical. The only thing I could get out of him was that…well… that he was going to scare people, I guess."

There was a long, heavy silence.

Then Madame Giry broke it, abruptly turning on her heal. "We must find him, before it's too late."

They followed Madame Giry out, and Christine shuddered.

_Too late for what?_

She didn't dare think about it.


	31. Lost Angel

(A/N: Once more, thank you sosososo much for all of the reviews! I can't tell you how happy it makes me to read them! I really felt like I let all of you down when I messed up, and I also feel as if each chapter has just been getting worse. I'll try extra hard on this one! Promise!)

**Chapter Thirty-One: Lost Angel**

Erik walked down the passageways in the cellar with ease, pushing all of his emotions away at the moment. He couldn't focus on… on… _her_. Not now.

Ahh, let's see now… who was first on his list? …

_Christine wouldn't like this. Christine would be upset with you…_

Erik pushed the voice to the back of his mind and kept walking.

The managers, of course, were first. Firmin and Andre… Erik shook his head. They truly didn't know how to run a business.

Not that he was going to kill them. No, he had something better planned…

Next on his list, right under them, was Carlotta. He wasn't going to worry about her until the morning, however, because she had been strangely quiet lately, and he was tired.

Then Piangi, he needed to lose weight. Apparently, he still wasn't trying much, for he was as heavy as ever. Erik certainly recalled telling Firmin and Andre when they first arrived that the man needed to lose weight, and though he had just reminded him at the Masquerade, he could tell that they still weren't going to listen to him.

Erik came out of a passageway close to the manager's sleeping quarters. Firmin's was on the left side of the hall, and Andre's was on the right.

Erik smiled thinly. Before he died—and oh, yes, he was certainly going to die… he knew he wouldn't be able to live now, without Christine—he was going to make sure that Don Juan was performed perfectly. Unfortunately, part of this was relying on the managers, who were…well… _less _than perfect. And who would play the lead?

Erik heard angry voices from Firmin's room. Apparently, they were arguing about the score. Firmin was furiously complaining that the music was too hard, the scale was ridiculous, and the entire opera was overall nonsense. Andre, apparently, was still trying to get over his drunkenness, and was saying something about how the cast would just have to work hard, big deal, could he go to sleep now?

Erik slunk back into the passageways, and found the trapdoor that led to the room the managers were in. The trapdoor exited behind a wall-hanging of some sort.

He opened the door, but stayed behind the hanging.

"_Good evening, messieurs, I see you are having trouble with my opera."_

The managers silenced in an instant.

Erik smiled and decided to have a little bit of fun. He threw his voice to the other side of the room.

"_What is your complaint with my opera?" _he demanded.

The managers whirled around in their seats and stared at the opposite end of the room.

"N-nothing." Andre stuttered, "It's fine—"

"Nonsense!" Firmin snapped, "Your opera is complete _nonsense_! The music is much too hard for anyone to play, let alone sing!"

Erik threw his voice once more, so that it would be right beside them. _"Then maybe you need a better orchestra!" _he hissed.

Firmin jumped at the closeness of the voice, and Andre nearly fell out of his chair.

"W-what…" Andre stuttered, but once more Firmin cut him off.

"Our orchestra is fine! There is nothing wrong with their talent! I think that it is _you_ that has problems! The score is _ridiculous_! None of these notes even sound nicely when played together! Do you _want_ the audience to walk out and ask for refunds?!"

Erik slipped out from behind the hanging. Andre and Firmin didn't see this, as they were not looking in his direction. "Good evening, Messieurs."

He could hear both managers' startled shouts as they scrambled to turn and face him.

When they did, they watched him glide over to stand beside the piano that Firmin had in his room. One of the previous managers had played the piano at least decently, and he had never taken it with him when he left. Perhaps he had thought it was cursed, like everything else at the Opera House.

Firmin and Andre stared at him, then exchanged looks with each other.

Erik smoothly sat down at the piano and began to play a song from his score.

The managers could only stare, astonished.

Erik frowned. The piano's pitch wasn't perfect, and it wasn't nearly as good as playing the organ. Still… it was nice to play one last time…

When he finished he stood swiftly, returning his managers' amazed stare with flashing golden eyes.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

There was a long pause, then Firmin stammered, "N-no."

Erik smiled. "Good. Then I have no need to kill you. Yet. My opera _will_ be perfect, messieurs, remember that."

He swiftly blew out the candle, and faded into the passageways once more.

When the managers relit the candle, they were amazed to find that he was gone.

"But the door was locked!" Firmin cried, "And the key is still in my pocket!"

Andre only stared and shrugged.

xxxxx

Erik rubbed his temples. That hadn't gone the way he had wanted it to. Had wanted to scare them out of their wits—but he hadn't been able to threaten them with anything, or to hurt them. Suddenly he had lost all his passion to do so. He had told Meg that he was going to scare people, but now he no longer cared.

He sighed, then suddenly collapsed in the passage. '_What did it matter?' _he wondered to himself, _'Christine is gone. There is no lead for the play anyway.' _No one other than Christine could do the part. He had tailored it to her voice after he met her. No one else would sound right… and _certainly_ not Carlotta, who would surely get the lead when they discovered that Christine had disappeared.

Erik closed his eyes. Everything was falling apart, and it was his fault. It was his fault Christine was dead… he should have explained things to her before he went and not just showed up at the Masquerade like that. Of course she would question him! He should have warned her not to try to cross the lake on her own, as well…

He closed his eyes, and slumped against the wall, wondering if he could just die there. After all, it wouldn't matter… nothing mattered…

xxxxx

…Three days later…

Christine was upset. They hadn't found Erik.

Of course, they hadn't heard of anything that had gone wrong yet either. She had expected them to come back to utter turmoil--for everything to be a mess.

Instead, they found… nothing. Everything was fine.

The night after Carlotta's accident, Christine couldn't sleep. Finally, she had told herself that it would do no good to wear herself out, and that they would find Erik in the morning, or sometime the next day.

They hadn't found him the next day… or the one after.

Now Christine was frantic. _Where had he gone?! _

"Oh Erik…" she whispered, tears coming to her eyes, "Where are you?"

xxxxx

Nadir searched the passageways under the opera house. Madame Giry had told him about everything that had happened the night of the masquerade, and he was as worried about his friend as Madame Giry had been.

He thought that it was quite odd, however, that Erik hadn't caused any trouble… and that only made him more worried.

He had hunted through almost all of the passages, however, and was beginning to lose hope of finding his friend. Maybe he wasn't there after all. Maybe he had left the opera house for good…

Suddenly the Persian, who had been lost in his own thoughts, stumbled over something lying in the pathway.

His eyes widened as he saw what it was.

"Erik!" He quickly knelt down beside him, shaking him gently. "Erik, how long have you been down here?"

Erik didn't respond, and his eyes remained closed. His breathing was shaky, and his skin was even paler than usual.

Nadir shook him a little bit harder, and Erik weakly pushed him away.

"Who?... Ah. Daroga. I should have known you'd find me." he lay back and closed his eyes once more. "Leave me, now. I did not want to be found. I was so close…"

The Persian wouldn't leave. "Erik, no, get up! You don't understand—"

But Erik was unconscious, now, a small, sad smile on his face.

Nadir knew that now he wouldn't be able to wake Erik up. If his guess was right, Erik had been laying here in the cold, damp passageway for nearly two and a half to three days, and had lost a lot of strength. He wouldn't live much longer. He had lost the _will_ to live.

"Erik! She's alive." Nadir sighed, knowing his friend couldn't hear him. "She's _alive._"

xxxxx

Christine was pacing her room anxiously, trying to think of anymore places to look for Erik that they hadn't thought of yet, when suddenly there was a knock.

She turned to face the door, and then frowned. No… the knock hadn't been on the door. She turned back around to face the dresser, which she had left in front of the opening where the mirror had been.

She ran over to it, and pushed it with all of her strength.

It moved about three inches.

Christine tried again and slowly but surely pushed the massive piece of furniture away.

The Persian man stepped out, looking tired.

"I'm glad you're hear, child. I've found Erik."

Christine's eyes brightened. "You did?" she whispered, almost not daring to believe it.

Nadir nodded, and then sighed. "I dragged him down here. Help me lift him."

Christine's happy smile suddenly faded away. "You have to carry him? Why?" she closed her eyes and swayed slightly. "He's not… he isn't…"

"He's still alive, but barely. He might not make it."

Christine hurried over and helped him carry Erik over, and then set him on her bed.

"Erik…" she touched his cheek and gasped. He was cold… even colder than usual. "Where was he? What can we do?"

"I found him in a passageway on the right side of the building. Apparently he had just collapsed there. Christine… I've never seen him like this. I think he _wants_ to die." Nadir sighed and shook his head.

Christine was now more frantic than ever. "What can we do?! How can we help him?! He has to live… he has to!"  
"Pile the blankets on top of him." the Persian instructed, "I'll get him some water. We'll have a better chance of saving him if we can wake him up. Plus, he hasn't taken in any water for nearly three days… he has to drink something. I'll try to get some food, too, but we don't have much time."

Christine nodded, and ran over to a chest in a corner to pull out some blankets that she used when the weather got cold, then pulled them over top of Erik.

When she looked up, she saw that Nadir had already left.

She turned her gaze back to Erik, and stroked his forehead. "Oh, Erik… please live… you _have_ to live…"

She set her head down on his chest and cried, unable to stop the tears. "I love you, Erik. Please… don't leave me…"

(A/N: Well, okay, I guess this chapter didn't turn out too good anyway, but let's see what you make of it.)

...Hilary...

(PS--Remember to IM me at my s/n, Zifnabiskewl! I love to talk to all of you! )


	32. A Common Misconception

(A/N: Thanks everyone! I'm really encouraged, and glad to know that none of you –or hardly any of you—seem to think that I let you down. I'm really relieved! It gets kind of stressful when so many people are reading your story, and I got worried.

On another note, I'm sorry I took so long to update. I hope you'll understand—this past week was exam week, and I was working pretty hard and didn't have any time.

Okay, I have to respond to at least _one_ of you. I don't want everyone else to feel bad when I just pick just a few, but I'll try to pick a few different people each time. I don't think that I could respond to 56 of you.

**Darth Gilthoron**: Thank you for your kind reviews! The lyrics I used for "Think of me" are from the original version. They changed it to the version you gave later on. As for detailing… ((Sighs))… ah, you've spotted my greatest weakness. I know I'm bad at details. I really tried on the Masquerade chapter, and I think you could tell. I should work at that. Daroga is a Persian title meaning "chief of police." Lol, I'm glad that you liked Carlotta's "accident," even if I did mess it up. That's so funny about your girlfriend… So sorry to disappoint her with lack of description of a shirtless Erik! Lol. And yes, certainly, your review had to have been at least_ one_ of the longest, if not the longest, I've ever had. Thank you so much for reviewing!

**Rooklyn**I'm so glad that you liked it! And I'm very pleased that you reviewed. I get lots of reviews, it's true, but I appreciate every single one of them. They especially helped this past week, because of my finals, and made me feel slightly more calm that at least _one_ thing was going well, lol. "cry, die, sob, leap out of my chair and do a happy dance" LOL… mixed emotions, there? hehehe. I'm so glad that you thought my story was well-written, and believable. I'll try not to let you down.

**beneathmyskin**Awww, thank you so much! YES! A PERSON WHO LOVES CLIFFHANGERS! ((laughs in the face of everyone who hates them)) Lol, thanks for telling people about my fic. :) What is your IM?

**Aislin of the Shadows**: Lol, okay, so I couldn't resist responding to your review. The best E/C romance story ever? Thanks, lol, but I seriously doubt that. Actually, I _know_ that. I've read _much_ better! But thank you so much, anyway! Lol, did I _really_ misspell Raoul in my summary?! LOL! Well, unfortunately I _will_ have to fix that…lol…

**Chapter Thirty-Two: A Common Misconception**

Erik was dreaming.

He usually wasn't one to dream—if he ever had any images in his sleep, they were usually nightmares from the past.

But now… now he saw a figure, bathed all in light.

That was when he realized that he was dead.

A moment passed as Erik gazed at the silhouette distrustfully. He was certain he was about to fall from wherever he was and land in hell. Unless this _was_ hell… Well, if it was, it definitely wasn't what he had expected.

The silhouette, for some reason, seemed slightly amused at something. _"No… this isn't hell."_

Erik stared at the figure. _They had read his mind…_

Another long moment passed as Erik examined the profile, and then he asked the only question that came into his mind. "Where is Christine?"

The figure chuckled. _"She isn't here, if that's what you think. You should not be here either, Erik. It is not your time. Go back."_

A strange sensation went through Erik's body, and he didn't even have time to wonder how the mysterious person knew his name before everything went dark…

xxxxx

Christine sat rigid in shock. Erik had stopped breathing.

"No…No!" she cried out, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them, but it was no use. Erik was dead.

Christine couldn't believe it. She just couldn't grasp the concept that her Angel was dead… he _couldn't _be! She had thought that Erik would always be there for her… and now he was gone.

She felt sick and dizzy, and let herself collapse on his body. "Erik… Why did you leave me…" she choked, more hot tears spilling from her eyes. "My Angel…"

xxxxx

Erik could distantly hear someone crying. Who was it? What the heck was going on? Where was he?

He tried to move, but found that he couldn't. It felt as though something was pressed down on top of his body.

Then the person who was crying spoke. Erik didn't understand the words, but he didn't have to. He recognized the voice.

"Christine?" he whispered.

There was a pause, and then…

"Erik?"

Erik forced his eyes open, and they met with Christine's wide blue ones. "Christine… You're not… dead?" Every word took a great amount of effort to say.

"Erik! I thought…" Christine stammered, "You stopped breathing… and I thought… you were dead…"

Erik gave a small, strained smile. "It seems we had a common misconception."

Christine started crying again, but this time they were tears of relief. She flung her arms around Erik's neck, and he winced. It was getting hard to breathe with her on top of him.

"Christine…" he only got that out before he launched into a coughing fit.

At that moment, however, Nadir entered the room.

"Erik! You're awake! I didn't think you were going to make it—" the Persian paused, took the scene in, then smiled slightly. "Christine?"

She looked up at him.

"Erik can't breathe, child."

Christine looked down at Erik and blushed, then pushed herself off of him. "Sorry…"

He tried to make a dismissive motion to show her that it was okay, but found that he still couldn't move his arms.

Nadir hurried over and held something up to his mouth, and then helped him drink.

When he was finished, both the Persian and Christine helped him to sit up. Then Nadir handed him some food.

"Here… I couldn't find anymore, but I think this is good for now."

Erik nodded numbly, and found that the feeling was coming back into his arms and legs. It still took an effort to move, but he was able to, and that's what mattered.

After a little while, Nadir left them to find Madame Giry.

Christine gently wrapped her arms around Erik, still giddy with relief.

There was still something Erik didn't quite understand, though. "I… thought you were dead… the boat…"

Christine bit her lip. "Oh… right… You didn't know, then. Um… Carlotta had a bit too much to drink, and apparently she thought she could kill you herself, so she stole a revolver and went to find you…"

Erik began to smile. "And found the lake… and took the boat." He chuckled darkly. "It served her right."

Christine rested her head on his shoulder. "You scared me."

Erik reached up and hesitantly stroked her hair. "You scared me more."

Christine smiled faintly and closed her eyes, her breathing beginning to slow. "Goodnight, Erik…I love you…"

He paused for a moment, then tenderly kissed the top of her head. "I love you too, Ma chérie."

(A/N: So sorry about how long it took me to update, and also about the length of this chapter! I know it's short, but I wanted to update tonight because I felt bad, so I wrote all that I could. I hope you liked it! Thank you, everyone, for the encouragement. I needed it. Please R&R!)

(Disclaimer: Apparently I forgot to add earlier that I don't own Nadir, either, that's from Susan Kay's Phantom. Oops… lol…)

...Hilary...

(Oh, one last note, Thank you to everyone who IMs me! It's so much fun to talk to all of you! Also, I might have an e-mail adress again soon! Hurrah! So, if you haven't yet, IM me at Zifnabiskewl! Thanks again everyone!)


	33. Shocking Discovery

(A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Here's the next chapter.

**EarthDragonette: **Wow, thank you! I'm so glad you like the way I portrayed Christine and Erik. Thank you for your kind review!

**monroe-mary: **Oh gosh, thank you so much for the correction! I originally had "Ma chere" but the French translator told me it was "Mon" something or other… and I didn't like it… but I got confused, so I used it anyway. Thank you! I fixed it in the last chapter. :)

**LadyRedDeath: **Lol! That would be hilarious! Unfortunately this is my only fic that isn't humor, or else I would actually put that in. Thanks for making me laugh!

Gah. I can only respond to a few of you… but I want to respond to you all!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Thirty-Three: A Shocking Discovery**

Erik woke to the sounds of the opera house, as usual, but for some reason they seemed so much closer…

He opened his eyes and stiffened.

_Where was he?_

It took him a moment to remember everything that had happened, and to recall where he was… _In Christine's room…_

He sat up suddenly, jarring Christine, who just stirred slightly and sighed in her sleep.

He gazed down at her for a few seconds, a small smile on his face. Her brown curls were splayed across the pillows, and there was a soft, sweet smile on her lips as she slept. She murmured something, but Erik didn't catch what it was.

After a little bit, though, he came back to his senses and quickly looked over to the door to make sure that no one had entered. Then he made his way over to the mirror.

For a moment, he just stared at it, knowing something was different and not being able to remember why.

Then, he realized that Carlotta had broken the mirror before… and yet, now it was still here… completely unbroken…

Someone must have had it replaced over night, he concluded. Carefully, Erik opened the passageway and slipped inside. He had several things to do before the production of Don Juan, which would be in a month's time.

Before closing the mirror behind him, he glanced at Christine one last time, already picturing her as Aminta. She was perfect.

xxxxx

The managers jumped as the door to their office was flung open. They flew to their feet, startled and anxious that it was the Phantom again.

Of course, they should have known better. The Phantom generally didn't use the door.

Piangi burst in, an angry and worried look on his face. Before either Andre or Firmin could say anything, he let out a string of curses and insults.

The managers exchanged terrified looks.

"Monsieur! Please, calm yourself!" Andre exclaimed.

Piangi took several deep breaths, and the color of his face faded from bright red back to a normal tan tone. As soon as he could speak again, he asked angrily, "Where is Carlotta?"

The managers exchanged another look.

"We don't know… we haven't seen her." Firmin said calmly. "Wasn't she with you?"

Piangi glared at him. "If she _was_, then I wouldn't be here, would I? Where is she?!"

"I've already said, I don't—"

"You _don't know_." Piangi finished for him. "She has been missing for three and a half days, and all you can tell me is that you _don't know_."

"She's been missing for three and a half days?" Andre repeated incredulously.

"Indeed! And you didn't even _notice_?"

Firmin frowned at him, "We've been busy. How would _we _know what happened—"

Andre broke him off with a moan.

"What is it?" Firmin snapped.

Andre pointed.

He looked to where his friend was indicating, and paled. "Not _another_ one!" he exclaimed resignedly.

For, on the desk, there lay a letter. It was addressed to them in blood red ink on the front in the handwriting that they knew all too well.

"What's this?" Piangi asked and, without waiting for an answer, strode over and picked the note up. He broke the seal with his finger, and unfolded the parchment inside.

"No!" both managers cried out at the same time, but Piangi was already reading the note. They watched with a bad feeling in the pit of their stomachs as his face slowly lost all of its color.

When he finished reading, he was shaking so hard that he dropped the letter. It was hard to tell whether he was trembling with anger, fear, or sorrow.

Hesitantly, Firmin bent down and picked up the letter from the floor.

Andre leaned over to read it with him.

_My managers,_

_As the time draws closer for my opera to be performed, I will be paying closer attention to the little details. My opera_ must_ be perfect, and I know that you will do everything in your ability to make it so. _

_As you know, Miss Daae will be playing the lead, Aminta. I know that she will do her best, and you need not worry about training her to sing the music. I shall do that myself._

_It is Piangi that I worry about. Unfortunately, he was our only male vocalist that could even come close to hitting the notes, or else I would have picked another. It is a shame that our male vocalists are so lacking in skill._

_As for the dancing, I hope that you will be able to improve it. I have no doubt in Madame Giry's skills—only of the skills of the people she is training. What I have seen so far has not impressed me. _

_The orchestra is quite horrible. We need another first trombone, and the violinists need to work on playing in tune._

_The chorus, however, is doing very well. This is primarily due to the fact that La Carlotta is not there anymore, and that her absence is permanent. I assure you that she is quite dead._

_On the last note, I remind you once more that my salary is due._

_--O. G. _

Andre and Firmin stared at the note, shocked.

There was a long, stunned silence, before Andre finally regained his voice.

"He killed her!" Andre said, feeling sick, "He killed Carlotta!"

Firmin threw the letter down back onto the desk, then announced, "He's a madman! He'll kill us all off!"

"I bet we're next on his list." Andre moaned.

The two looked up at Piangi, whose face resembled death. "I'm not sure if he is insane, or if he is simply evil… but I do know one thing."

Firmin frowned up at Piangi, who was eerily calm after hearing of Carlotta's demise. "What is that?" he demanded.

Andre looked curiously at their lead singer, and motioned for him to keep going.

Piangi glared coldly at them. "The Opera Ghost must die."

* * *

(A/N: Yes! A cliffhanger of sorts… Well, not really, but still, it's better than the last chapter. Lol, it was torture to not end the last one in even a _remotely_ cliffhanger fashion…but oh well. 

Oh, I wanted to let you guys know, my e-mail is working again! Hurrah! You may e-mail me at phantom.rose (at) juno . com (without the spaces)

…Hilary…


	34. The Plan

(A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for all of the reviews. Again. :D I love to read what you guys have to say, and any tips for my writing. Thanks sosososososo much for all of the compliments! Love you guys!)

**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Plan**

Andre and Firmin stared at Piangi.

After a little while, Andre nodded. "Yes, I suppose… but _how_ is the question! Policemen went after him, and told us stories about some kind of torture room, and how one of their number disappeared and was never seen again. Did you know about that? One of the men—Christophe, or something like that, I believe his name was—went in after the Phantom and never came back. The policemen who waited outside of some trapdoor for him eventually gave up and left. This man—if indeed he _is_ a man!—is almost invincible!"

"_Almost_ is the key word there." Piangi told them firmly.

"He's right." Firmin added, "One of the policemen shot the so-called Phantom, and he bled. That proves he's mortal—he can die just as easily as we can."

"And we'll make sure he does!" the singer exclaimed. "I think I have an idea…"

xxxxx

Christine sat at her desk and brushed her hair, then pulled it up with a white satin ribbon. She carefully pulled on an every-day dress, and then stepped out into the hallway, only to be automatically bombarded bye a ballerina.

Christine smiled when she saw it was Little Jammes, then patted her on the head and stepped aside. "What are you in such a rush for?" she asked gently.

"Late for rehearsals!" Jammes gasped, and then hurried away down the hall again.

Christine grinned after her. _Poor thing… Madame Giry won't be happy about that…_

Suddenly she stopped. _What of _her_ rehearsals? _No one had told her anything about practice times yet, and she was starting to worry. Perhaps the managers had decided not to do the Phantom's opera after all…and just for extra spite, had cast her out of the next opera that they did!

Christine whirled around and took a few quick steps in the direction that Little Jammes had gone. Then she stopped herself, trying to come back to her senses. This was nonsense! If something of that sort had happened, she would have heard of it by now! She took a few deep breaths, then wondered what to do for the rest of the day. After all, apparently her rehearsals hadn't begun yet, and there was basically no point in lounging about her room all day.

For a moment she wondered what Erik was doing, but then brushed that aside. He was probably busy—and if he wasn't, he might still be recovering from his near-death experience.

She shuddered as she recalled that… she wouldn't have been able to stand it if anything had happened to him!

Without noticing, her feet had led her to where practice was taking place. To her surprise, Meg was sitting to the side, just watching as the other girls practiced.

When the ballet girl spotted her, she smiled and waved. Christine hurried over to where her friend was sitting and seated herself beside her.

"What's going on? Why aren't you dancing?"

Meg laughed. "Mother is getting frustrated with some of the other girls. She let me and La Sorelli sit out, because we were getting tired and we were the only ones who got the dance right. The other girls keep getting this part wrong…" Meg motion to the dance steps that the other girls were attempting.

Christine tried not to giggle, but it was pretty hard not to. The girls were all out of time. As she watched, two ballerinas ran into each other, and one fell over trying to do a pirouette. Meg joined her giggles—it was just impossible not to laugh. Madame Giry started scolding the ballerinas, and told them to start over again. This time was just as bad—if not worse.

"How much time do you have off?" Christine asked when both of the girls had composed themselves again.

"Quite a while, I'd guess." Meg said with a smile, "Considering that the other girls aren't even _close_ to getting this right."

"Good. Do you want to go to town, or something? I have an afternoon off, too, and I don't know what to do with myself."

Meg grinned. "Sure… Let me tell Maman where I'm going. I'll meet you in a little bit on the front steps.

Christine nodded and started off to get her coat. As she reached the doors, she could hear Madame Giry's conversation with her daughter.

"_Maman, Me and Christine—"_

"_Christine and_ I_."_

"_Christine and _**I**_are going out for a walk. We'll be gone for a little while."_

"_Fine, but be careful—"_

Meg started to move towards the door.

"—_And Meg, dear?"_

She turned back.

"_Don't even _think_ of wearing that dress! I know you've hidden it somewhere, but I'll find it eventually."_

Meg grinned and hurried after her friend.

Christine smiled as Meg caught up with her. Finally, things seemed to be getting back to normal.

xxxxx

"So… The Phantom attends the opening of Don Juan. We lock all of the doors, and post policemen at every one of them. Then, we hide some more gun men down in the orchestra. As soon as we see the Phantom in Box Five, which we reserved for him, we order them to shoot him. Did I miss anything?" Firmin asked.

"No. The plan is quite simple—but, I think we'll find, quite efficient. Even this mysterious Phantom won't be able to live long with a great deal of bullets in him."

"It just might work…" Andre agreed, amazed. "This may be the end of our troubles!"

"Non, Monsieur… it _will _be!" Piangi corrected him.

"Only one thing…" Andre added, "What if something …something that we don't _expect_ happens? What if, for example, he doesn't appear in Box Five?"

"He will."

"I'm just saying, _what if he doesn't?_ We _do _have to be prepared for the unexpected."

"I agree." Firmin said with a frown. "So far, this man has been unpredictable. We don't need another episode like the chandelier!"

"Not another chandelier…" Andre moaned.

Piangi frowned. "Why _wouldn't_ he be in Box Five? Where else would he go? You don't honestly think that he'd join the common crowd!"

Firmin frowned. "I don't know… I just have a feeling that the Phantom has something up his sleeve… Piangi, I don't want anything to go wrong… I don't want anyone else to get hurt! This man has proved that he is not afraid to kill…"  
"And if someone else dies, well, that would be the end of the Opera Populaire!"

"Yes… we can't take chances."

"Very well." Piangi sounded amused. "Then we'll just tell everyone who comes to arm themselves with revolvers, and to shoot anyone they see wearing evening dress and a half mask!" he laughed. "Get a grip, men! Nothing will go wrong. Trust me."

Firmin sighed. "We trust you, Piangi… It's the Phantom we don't trust. You can't blame us for wanting to make sure nothing goes wrong, after everything that has happened!"

Piangi shook his head exasperatedly, then shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way… if he doesn't show up in Box Five, what do we do?"

Firmin ran a hand through his hair. "That's just it… I'm not sure. His next move is always hard to predict."

"Then let him make it." Piangi exclaimed, "This is just like an elaborate game of chess! Sure, we lost a few pawns… we even lost our queen—" (it was quite obvious he was referring to Carlotta here)—"But we still shall prevail! All we have to do is apply a strategy, trap him in a corner, and, Check Mate! We win. Don't worry about it… it will all end well."

Firmin sighed again. "I certainly hope so."

* * *

(A/N: This chapter was fun to write. I think I might even write another one tonight, if I have time. Right now, though, my mother needs the computer. Hope you like the chapter, please R&R!) 


	35. Preparations

(A/N: Hello everyone! Once more, thank you for all of the reviews! Okay, here's the thing. I've noticed that my chapters are getting progressively shorter, which is really starting to bother me. So, I'm going to take my time on this one, and make sure it is at least 3 ½ to 4 pages long. At least.)

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Preparations**

The day Meg and Christine went to town was the last day they were able to for a long time. Over the next month, they were both worked so hard that they never had time to go out and have fun, for in the moments when they weren't rehearsing for _Don Juan_, they fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

Meg's days were full of practices for the ballet, and her mother was getting more and more anxious over the state of the dancing. Out of all the hours they worked, the ballerinas were slowly but surely getting better at long last. At least, now they could perform the dance decently, though it was far from the perfection that the Phantom was demanding.

Christine was worked, if possible, even harder than Meg. Her days were full of blocking and choreography for the show. Monsieur Reyer worked with her on the dances and the acting, things such as where to go and when. Surprisingly, he never worked on her voice. Christine had vague suspicions that Erik had something to do with this, but she never asked. She didn't want to bring such a touchy subject up. Besides, it wasn't as though she needed the practice anyway, for every evening—though sometimes stretching late into the night—Erik trained her voice to sing his music.

Even Erik was beginning to feel the strain of the upcoming performance. He found himself getting more and more irritable when a mistake was made. Several times he surprised even himself by snapping at Christine when she messed up repeatedly on a phrase. Granted, she never messed up that certain part again, but he felt guilty for days afterwards for scolding her. So from then on, when he felt himself getting agitated with a specific part, he dismissed Christine for the night to let himself calm down.

Firmin and Andre hadn't heard from the Ghost for a while, and were beginning to get nervous. Surely they didn't _want_ to hear from the Phantom, but they found that in the absence of his letters, their nerves began to grow. What did it mean that he wasn't writing to them? Was everything going well? Or… or had he found out about their plan? Was he, even now, waiting to catch them alone and strangle them?

They shuddered at these thoughts, and quickly banished them from their minds. However, they always lay on the far reaches, and the managers found that in times when they were alone or in dark places, the eerie, unwanted thoughts began to creep up on them once more.

All in all, the Opera House was in an extremely edgy mood as the time for the performance of _Don Juan_ drew near.

When they finally reached the week that the opera was to be performed in, there wasn't a single ballerina who wasn't carrying a good-luck charm. Even Meg herself, who was almost on friendly terms with Erik, (meaning that she didn't _think_ that he would attempt to kill her), wore a little golden cross around her neck at all times.

The performance was to be on the Friday of that week, and by Monday even the most un-superstitious of the chorus girls was jittery.

By Tuesday, La Sorelli had an emotional breakdown and barricaded herself in her room. She wouldn't come out even for meals, until Andre himself came and begged her to rehearse, else she displease the Ghost.

On Wednesday, the rehearsals were so intense that Little Jammes fainted in the middle of one of the dances, resulting in Madame Giry telling the girls that they could have a half an hour break to rest. They gratefully seized this chance to take a small nap, though most of them overslept, causing Madame Giry to scold them and tell them that there would be no more breaks.

Wednesday evening, one of the girls twisted an ankle (whether on purpose, or by accident), which caused general chaos among the others. The chorus protested that they were being worked too hard, and were experiencing vocal fatigue. Monsieur Reyer, after an hour of arguing with them, finally broke down and gave them the night off.

Piangi kept messing several passages up, and his horrible rendition of "The Point of No Return" made Christine want to hold her ears.

Monsieur Reyer was even getting fed up with Christine. She now sang in the practices (because she had to work on blending her voice with Piangi's) and he kept telling her, rather angrily, that she wasn't being passionate enough. The problem was, it was hard to be passionate and seductive knowing that her partner was _Piangi._ At times, she attempted to pretend he was Erik, but most of the times she failed.

That night, Christine had a horrible headache, and was dreading her session with Erik. She was worried that he would be displeased with her, for she would definitely not do well in this condition.

However, when Erik came to take her down to his lair, he took one look at her and told her to take the night off as well.

"You look tired, Ma chérie. You're pale, and there are shadows under your eyes. It would do you well to rest tonight, so that you're well tomorrow."

Christine smiled in relief. "Thank you, Erik. I really do need some sleep…" her eyelids began to flicker, and she yawned.

Erik scooped her up and brought her carefully over to her bed. She was already asleep by the time he set her down. Erik smiled down at her, then gently kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Christine. Sleep well."

Then he quietly swept over to the trapdoor (which he had found out that Madame Giry had replaced), and shut it with a faint 'click' behind him.

xxxxx

Thursday was the worst day yet. Everyone was woken up at daybreak to begin warming up for the dress rehearsal. So, yawning and grumbling, the population of the Opera House began to stir.

Everything went down hill right from the start.

All of the ballerinas assembled _almost_ on time, only to find that they had no instructor. Madame Giry, usually so punctual, wasn't there yet.

They started to warm up by themselves, stretching their limbs to prepare them for the vigorous dances. When they finished, however, they found that there was still no Madame Giry.

Meg was beginning to worry. She had been too tired to go check on her mother last night, and she wondered if anything was wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, Monsieur Reyer stalked in, huffing. He told them to join the chorus members, so they all shuffled out of the room they were in and onto the stage.

When everyone was there, Monsieur Reyer announced that Madame Giry had taken ill, and would not be there until late afternoon. She had insisted on coming still, but had been too tired to leave her room that morning. Therefore, Monsieur Reyer would be helping them warm up their dances before they put everything together.

The ballet girls were extremely upset about this, and none more than Meg Giry, but they complied anyway… after all, if they didn't, they would risk displeasing the ghost! As none of them wanted to take that chance, they tried their hardest even without their instructor.

Christine, Piangi, and other main characters arrived about an hour later in costume. They began to run through the entire opera, and found to their relief that it actually turned out pretty well.

When they were finished, they ran through it again, correcting any mistakes they had made the first time. By now, it was wonderful… but not quite _perfect_.

Madame Giry entered by the time they were starting the third run-through, looking more pale and drawn than usual. Several of the ballet girls were startled to see her like this, and began whispering among themselves immediately about her hair, which she had left down.

"Girls, girls! Be silent!" Monsieur Reyer ordered them angrily. The ballerinas quickly went quiet, but they still darted glances at their instructor every once in a while.

The third time through, unfortunately, wasn't quite as good as the second. Madame Giry halted one of the dancing pieces half way through and made them restart it, insisting that it wasn't precise enough.

So the girls, sighing and mumbling to themselves, got back in place to begin the piece.

This time it went almost perfectly, and Madame Giry was pleased. The rest of it went well, then, but it still wasn't what the Phantom required.

One of the ballerinas sighed noisily. "It's _not_ going to be perfect, nothing is! The only way that _I_ can see for it to get any better would be for the Phantom himself to direct us!"

Madame Giry smiled slightly. "Be careful what you wish for."

All of the noise in the room suddenly evaporated.

One of the chorus members looked over at Madame Giry and whispered, "_Would _he?" she shuddered. "I don't think anyone would_ dare_ mess up…"

"_Very well, then… this time don't mess up."_ A voice echoed across the stage. All of the ballet girls, excluding Meg, squealed and ran to hide behind one another, certain that the famous "Ghost" was going to come into sight any minute now and murder them all.

"_Silence!"_

The chaos diminished with that one word. No one wanted to anger him any further.

"_Now, start from the beginning. Remember, I'm watching, and I won't be pleased with anything other than perfection."_

The girls exchanged glances and shivered. One in the back fainted, and quickly had to be revived before the show began.

Yet again, they began to run through the opera. Everyone was astounded at how well Christine did this time through, and even Piangi wasn't as bad as usual. It was as close to perfection that they were going to get.

At the end, when everyone had taken their bows, there was a long silence.

Everyone sat waiting for the Opera Ghost's response.

Finally, when everyone was starting to get anxious, the voice rang out yet again.

"_Very good. Now make sure that opening night runs this smoothly. I shall be watching from my normal seat in Box Five, remember that…"_

The ballet girls exchanged another look—How could they possibly _forget?_

"_Bravi, everyone… bravi."_

(A/N: Okay, that's all I have time for this morning, I think I did pretty good this time. :) Please RR.)


	36. Let the Show Begin

(A/N: Wow, there aren't too many chapters to go! I'll really miss this phic when I finish writing it. I've decided not to write the sequel, for those of you who were thinking that. I _will_, however, have a new story up within the week this one is finished, and it _will_ be called "The Crimson Rose," but it _won't_ have anything to do with this one. More information on it later.)

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Let the Show Begin**

Finally, it was the day of the performance. Christine was so nervous she was shaking too hard to lace up her corset. Instead, she had Meg do it for her. She had someone else do her hair, but she herself had to do her stage make-up. She didn't trust anyone else to do it.

She was also nervous because she hadn't seen or heard of Erik for a long time. Irrationally, she started to be plagued with thoughts of horrible things happening to him, which didn't help her state of mind in the least.

As she walked down to the stage for a last rehearsal before the actual show, she prayed that nothing would go wrong, and no one would get hurt.

She got the awful feeling lately that Erik was up to something, and had a sneaking suspicion that Madame Giry had been helping him. When she questioned the ballet instructor, though, Madame Giry had told her not to speak nonsense. However, she wouldn't meet Christine's eyes, and she wouldn't answer anymore questions.

Now, as she made her way onto the stage, she felt a strange sensation of dread fill her. Something was going to happen, and she was almost certain that she wouldn't like it.

xxxxx

"Are the police ready?" Andre asked Firmin, and his fellow manager nodded his assent. "Good." Andre wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was going to be glad when all of this was over.

The managers hadn't told anyone of Piangi's plan. The only people who knew were themselves and the officers in question. They hadn't wanted to startle the cast by notifying them of the reason of the police's presence.

Andre and Firmin sat in their office, going over the plan and looking for things that could go wrong. Firmin kept insisting that they do something in case the Phantom didn't appear in Box Five, but Piangi had repeatedly brushed his comments off, firmly telling him that he was _sure_ the Phantom would be there, and there was no question about it.

At last, Firmin gave in, but he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach about it. He was sure that the Phantom would pull some unexpected trick, and they'd be left in confusion. Or dead.

The managers stayed in their office until a half-hour before the show began. Then they made their way down to their seats.

xxxxx

Christine had stopped shaking, and was beginning to feel the familiar excitement before a performance. She told herself over and over again that nothing would go wrong, and had finally convinced herself…and then she saw the policemen.

Her heart sank.

"Meg! Meg!" She ran through the darkness backstage, looking for her friend. When she found her, she said, "Why are their policemen here? What's going on!"

Meg frowned. "Policemen? Are there really? I didn't know anything about it…"

Madame Giry came out of the shadows from behind her daughter. "There are officers here?" she asked, and Christine thought she heard a flicker of fear in the woman's voice. "Are they armed?"  
Meg peered out of the curtain, and after a moment pulled her head back in. "Yes, they are."  
That was the first time in her life that Christine heard Madame Giry say a cuss word. She stared at the woman, but by the time she had overcome her shock, the ballet instructor had sped away into the darkness.

Meg had been just as shocked as Christine. "What was _that_ all about?" she asked, voice shaking a little. "I've _never _heard her… I mean, she doesn't…"

"Erik is up to something." Christine whispered. "Oh, Meg, he's up to something… And so are the managers. The police…"

Meg's eyes suddenly grew wide. "It's almost like a war... But which side is the right side?"

Christine gave her friend a look, and the ballet girl blushed slightly. "I'm sorry Christine, I didn't mean to imply that I thought that maybe he was on the _wrong_ side… but…"

Christine shook her head. "It's _not_ a war, Meg, you'll see. We're making a fuss over nothing. Nothing will happen. Nothing will go wrong."

Even to her, the words sounded empty.

xxxxx

Erik sat at his organ, not playing, but staring off into the distance in thought. His opera would begin in twenty minutes' time.

He had known that he would have to leave the Opera House soon. Eventually, he knew that the managers would get fed up with his demands, and hunt him out. He couldn't stay hidden forever. Therefore, he had made a plan of escape. This, of course, involved _Don Juan_. He was more than a little upset that he had to interrupt the very first showing, but he knew it was necessary… that is, unless he wanted to leave without Christine. However, he didn't even view that as an option. His life meant nothing without Christine.

He had consulted Madame Giry on the matter, of course. He didn't want to plan this by himself, and he needed help in case something went wrong.

His plan involved getting rid of Piangi, which immediately faced him with a problem. He knew he couldn't kill the man—Christine would never forgive him if he killed again. No, he would need to just get rid of him temporarily.

Unfortunately, he was afraid that if faced with the horrible tenor, he would lose all sense and kill him after all. This was one reason he needed Madame Giry. The other, of course, was so that she could make sure everything ran smoothly.

They had discussed this on Thursday morning, and Madame Giry had called in sick so that she could help him.

She had told him quite firmly that, however, she wanted to be back up on stage by noon, because their practice had needed work. He agreed, but by the time noon came, they had only just finished the plans.

Madame Giry hated to be late. All of her life, she had been right on time. So when she looked at the clock when they were finished, and realized that it read 11:58, she jumped to her feet and ran out into the passageways.

She made it to the stage just on time—as usual—but she looked pale and out of breath by the time she got there, and she noticed too late that she had forgotten to pull her hair up into its precise bun.

Erik reflected later that this was actually probably a good thing. It made her excuse of sickness seem all the more real, and certainly none of the ballet girls had suspected a thing. Monsieur Reyer had given her a few suspicious looks, but said nothing. But that was only to be expected… Reyer was a smart man, and wasn't fooled easily.

Erik had followed Madame Giry to the rehearsals, and had taken his seat in Box Five. So, naturally, when one of the ballet rats spoke of him directing them, he had risen to the occasion.

As he sat in the darkness with ten minutes to go to the opera, thinking to himself, he was interrupted abruptly (and unexpectedly) by Madame Giry.

She looked slightly worried about something, and when she explained about the officers, he saw why.

But there was no turning back now.

xxxxx

The theater was packed—every seat was full, (except, of course, for Box Five). The reason behind this being that the managers had advertised _Don Juan_ as the Ghost's Opera. As always, the public was always looking into anything where they thought might be trouble or excitement, so the opera sold out faster than any other one ever had.

Now they all sat in their seats, whispering excitedly to themselves and casting curious glances around the place, all looking for the telltale ghost.

A few of them looked a little bit frightened, but the majority was strangely excited, as if just waiting for something odd and surprising to happen. Unfortunately, nothing happened until later on in the opera…but when it did, they certainly weren't let down.

Five minutes to go until _Don Juan _began…

xxxxx

Andre and Firmin fidgeted in their seats, occasionally casting glances over at Box Five.

Still nothing.

They were quite clearly distraught about the missing ghost, but had reassured themselves that he would appear just as the opera began.

All time seemed to slow down, and the seconds ticked by. The police, with their weapons, sat waiting in various places around the room. They were anywhere from the orchestra pit, to behind the seats where the audience was seated. Several of them had actually purchased tickets for the opera beforehand anyway, and, though several people thought it odd that the men came to watch the show with loaded rifles, they didn't think much of it. After all, nothing was too strange for the Ghost's Opera!

Three minutes to go…

xxxxx

Erik didn't go to Box Five. He knew that he couldn't. The managers had planned something, and that something had undoubtedly been centered around Box Five. He saw it in their eyes every time they glanced over at his empty seat.

So, instead, he watched from up above as the seconds ticked away…

Finally, the wait was over. The curtains parted on the opening scene of _Don Juan_.

Erik smiled down at the stage as the ballet girls and main characters began to filter onto it.

"_Let the show begin…"_ he whispered.

(A/N: Okay, the _next_ chapter will be _Don Juan_. After that, there are only a few chapters left. ((cries)) Anyway, I thank everyone for their support! Please R + R!)

…Hilary…


	37. The Point of No Return

(A/N: Oh no, here we go… the much anticipated "Don Juan" chapter… Lol. Thank you to ALL of my reviewers, and a special thanks to Songe… That was one of the longest reviews I've ever gotten!

Thank you again everyone! Enjoy the update!)

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Point of No Return**

The first scene went smoothly, both the managers agreed. It was most certainly the best show the Opera House had ever put on, even if it was a bit…morbid…

The audience watched in anticipation as Don Juan and his servant, Passarino, recited their plan and exchanged places. Then Don Juan hid behind a curtain, and the lovely Miss Daae entered as Aminta.

The managers turned their gaze to Box Five. So far, there was nothing…

xxxxx

Piangi smiled to himself and pulled the curtain closed behind him. It had been a good day so far, and was only promising to get better. Any moment now…any moment the Phantom would appear in Box Five. Then, at long last, they would have their revenge!

Piangi chuckled to himself, and then turned his attention back to the voices onstage. In a moment, he had to go back on…

Suddenly he heard a voice behind him. Surprisingly, however, it was not a male voice. It was a female voice that he recognized…

"Monsieur Piangi, you were doing better than usual tonight." Madame Giry announced quietly, "But unfortunately, you will no longer be needed in this scene. I am sorry for this, but it's the only way."

Piangi whirled around to face her just as she brought something heavy down on his head. Later, he would awake in his room with no recollection of any of the events from the opera.

xxxxx

"Hurry, Monsieur, you don't have much time." Madame Giry spoke softly so that they could not hear her on stage, watching worriedly as Erik donned Piangi's hooded cloak.

Erik turned to her then. "You have my thanks, Madame."

Madame Giry nodded briskly. "May luck be with you, though I fear that you may need more than luck to get away with this. You certainly don't _look_ like Piangi, Monsieur, and you sound even less like him. Thankfully."

Erik even smiled a little bit at her. "I will be careful."

"I'll take Piangi to his room—if I can carry him, that is—and then watch those officers to try to find out what is going on. I don't believe anyone really knows but the managers and Piangi, though…"

Erik was about to respond, but at that moment, the actor who played the servant said, "Master?"

Erik waved Madame Giry away, and responded with the appropriate line… "Passarino… Go away for the trap is set and waits for it's prey…"

xxxxx

The audience heard the change in the voice right away. Piangi, though he had a decent voice, did not sound anything near as angelic as this one did. Could it be…?

They all waited with baited breath.

The managers did as well. Andre gave his partner a worried look and mouthed, _"Piangi? What happened… that certainly isn't Piangi! Is it…the Phantom?…"_

Firmin gazed down at his friend, giving him an 'I-told-you-so' look.

Andre gulped and turned his attention back to the stage, where a black robed figure was appearing…

xxxxx

"_You have come here… in pursuit of your deepest urge…in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent… silent…"_

Christine, too, had heard the change in the voice as well, and she knew exactly what had happened. Why hadn't she expected something like this!

"_I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge…In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses completely succumbed to me…"_

She took a shaky breath and pretended as if nothing had changed. She had to keep up the appearance, for Erik's sake…even though she had a horrible suspicion that everyone else knew who he was, too…

"_And now you are here with me, no second thoughts…You've decided…decided…"_

His voice sent shivers down her spine. _'Well,' _she thought _'At least this time I don't have to worry about not being passionate enough…'_

Everyone watched the figure's progression across the stage, hypnotized by the angelic voice. Even the officers forgot to watch for their signal to shoot from the managers… which really didn't matter, as the managers had quite forgotten to give it. Everyone watched with bated breath.

"_Past the point of no return…No backward glances! The games we've played till now are at an end…Past all point of "if" or "when"…no use resisting…abandon thought, and let the dream descend . . ." _

Christine closed her eyes and lost herself in the sound of his voice. She restrained the sudden urge to jump up and run to him, reminding herself that they were in front of a huge audience.

"_What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us . . .?"_

Christine couldn't stop herself from sighing, but it was so faint that only Erik noticed. He raised an eyebrow slightly under the cowl of Don Juan's robe, a tiny smile playing about the corners of his lips. He continued, watching Christine's reaction intently. He had reached her now, and gently placed his arms around her.

"_Past the point of no return, the final threshold - what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return . . ."_

Christine was glad Erik was holding her, or else she would have collapsed. She regained her senses just in time to continue her part of the song.

"_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence . . .I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why . . . In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenseless and silent - and now I am here with you- no second thoughts, I've decided, decided . . ."_

She was doing the best she had ever done in all of her practices, even better than when she had practiced with Erik. She was now pouring her heart into her voice, and it made it all of the more amazingly beautiful. Though she still blushed slightly at Aminta's seductive words (and blushed more when she realized that they were true) she pulled herself together and continued.

"_Past the point of no return -no going back now — our passion-play has now, at last, begun … Past all thought of right or wrong -one final question: how long should we two wait, before we're one . . .?"_

Christine found that she wasn't embarrassed anymore. She became increasingly aware of Erik's arm's around her, and her song was getting more and more sincere. She bit back a moan as he began to gently press kisses on her neck. Her breath quickened, but she continued to sing. She couldn't mess up, not now…

"_When will the blood begin to race the sleeping budburst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us . . .?"_

Now Erik's voice joined hers, and the audience sat in complete awe. The sound and the feeling of both voices combined were incredible.

"_Past the point of no return the final threshold -the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn . . . We've passed the point of no return . . ."_

There was a ringing silence as they stopped. Everyone sat still in their seats, and then—slowly—began to come out of their reverie.

Erik gently drew Christine even closer to himself, and sang softly in her ear. _"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…lead me, save me from my solitude…"_

Christine drew in a breath. This wasn't in the script… what was he doing! She looked down to where the officers in the pit were, still blinking dazedly.

"_Say you want me with you, here, beside you…Anywhere you go, let me go too…Christine, that's all I ask of—"_

He never had time to finish, however, for at that moment Firmin came out of his trance and quickly signaled for the officers to shoot the man onstage.

The closest policeman raised his gun, and Christine let out a cry of despair. "Erik!" She quickly turned and pushed him to the ground, landing on top of him.

She wasn't a moment too soon, either, for the bullet went whizzing right over their heads.

Erik swiftly nudged her off from on top of him and scooped her up in his arms. Then he let something drop to the ground, causing a column of smoke to rise up around them.

"_Goodbye, gentlemen. It has been a pleasure working with you."_

Christine felt the floor drop out from underneath of her, and then everything went black.

(A/N: Well, I hoped you all enjoyed my version of _Don Juan_. There are still a few more chapters left, so stick around! Please R+R!)

...Hilary...


	38. Destruction

(A/N: Thank you everyone, for your support! This chapter is going to be a little bit depressing, just to warn you. But the next chapter is better, I promise! Don't give up on me yet! We've come this far! Wow… chapter thirty-eight…

Oh, whoever asked about Nadir, lol, yes, he's still in it. He kind of pops in and out… He'll be in it at least one more time.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Destruction**

When Christine woke, she was still in complete darkness. For a moment, she thought that she was still unconscious, but then she decided that she couldn't be. She felt around her and decided that she was on a pile of cushions somewhere. What had happened? Where was she?

"Christine?"

She looked up to see a familiar pair of golden eyes above her, and remembered everything. She smiled. "Erik."

There was a sigh of relief. "Thank God, I thought I had harmed you in that fall."

Christine grinned. "What was that?"  
"What was what?"

"Did I just hear you say "Thank _God_?"

There was a moment's silence, and then an amused voice said, "Yes, I suppose you did."

Christine pushed herself to her feet, and then felt through the darkness until she found Erik. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. "What happened after I passed out?"  
Erik frowned, hesitated, and then began to tell her.

xxxxx

_Erik landed on his feet, much like a cat would. Of course, he had been expecting the fall, and had positioned himself so that he wouldn't get hurt._

_Unfortunately, he had forgotten to warn Christine._

_He heard her gasp of surprise as the floor gave out beneath her. Then, when they had landed, there was silence. _

_A wave of terror passed through him. What had he done! Frantically, he knelt down next to her, and carefully lifted her into his arms._

_There were angry shouts from above, and he knew at once that he would be pursued. Someone, one of the officers, most likely, was beginning to form a mob. The yells of rage, which once he had laughed at, now sent shivers through his spine. He had Christine to think of now, and if she was harmed, he'd never forgive himself._

_Erik walked as quickly as he dared down the passageways. Christine would have to wake up soon… she would have to! He didn't know how long they could stay in his lair without being discovered._

_Finally, after what seemed like an age, they reached the lake, and he rowed to the other side. As soon as they got inside his home, he gently set Christine down on a pile of cushions in the Music Room, and waited anxiously for her to recover consciousness._

xxxxx

"So the mob is coming? How much time has passed?" Christine asked at once.

"Too much." Erik sighed. "They'll be here soon. We only have two choices… there's no way we can run now, Christine, we'll be caught."

Christine nodded, trembling slightly.

"We can either hide, or I'll fight them while you run."

"We hide." she said instantly.

"Christine… I would feel better if…"

She stopped him with a shake of her head. "We're hiding, Erik, and that's that. I won't let you fight them alone… and I never want to see you kill again, let alone be killed."

He sighed, opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. He could hear voices echoing in the passageways. They were here.

Christine looked at him calmly. "Where are we hiding, Erik?"

"Follow me." he crossed the room, and slid aside a case of musical instruments. Behind it was a dark passageway.

Christine shivered, but followed him inside.  
Erik took one last look at his music room. It had been his only solace for many, many years. Music had been his one true love, the only thing good in his life. With a sigh of sadness, he slid the case back into place and locked it. Christine was with him now, and he would give it all up for her.

"Erik," she asked softly, "Where does this passageway lead?"

He frowned. "It used to be a way out, but now it's a dead end. The ceiling collapsed, to my shame. I think it was the first time I ever made anything that didn't work as it was supposed to."

Christine hid a grin at his obvious dislike of imperfection, and didn't say anything about it.

A moment later, there was a heart-stopping crash as the door to the music room shattered. She gasped, and then bit her lip until it bled.

The sounds of destruction were almost more than she could bear, and she could only imagine how Erik felt.

Erik carefully kept the emotions from his face, not wanting to upset Christine. Every shatter he heard pierced his heart, and he immediately knew exactly what had been broken.

He counted them off in his mind._ The coffin… the cases of instruments…the violin…_

The list went on and on, but he stood quietly and took it all.

At least, until he heard the echoing clang of metal on metal. The sound vibrated through him and shook him to the core, making him collapse to his knees. _The organ!_ A cry of pain escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

Fortunately, no one heard it over the sounds of destruction but Christine.

Erik was now crying silently. _This had been his life_. Everything he knew… everything he loved… was gone. Everything, that is, except Christine. He wouldn't lose her now by being foolish and giving away their hiding place.

He shut his eyes and tried to block out the terrible sounds, but it was impossible.

The next hour was one of the worst in his entire life. It was worse than his mother refusing to kiss him, worse than the gypsies tormenting, worse than the looks of fear on people's faces when they saw him. No, it was worse by far. In this hour, the only happiness that he had ever had in his tortured life was being shattered, little by little.

At long last, the sounds stopped.

"He's not here!" Someone cried out.

There were several faint responses, but Erik didn't catch them.

Then, there was a long, blissful silence.

After about a half an hour, Christine bent down and gently helped Erik to his feet. She was pale and shaking, and there were streaks down her face left by fallen tears.

"Erik, they're gone. They left a while ago."

He took a shaky breath. "You're sure? All of them?"

Christine nodded.

"Then…then I suppose…I'll have to face it sometime…"

He closed his eyes as Christine unlocked the hidden passageway, and pushed the case aside. She gasped.

Erik kept his eyes closed tightly, not wanting to see what he knew he would when he opened them.

"Erik…don't look." Christine choked. "I'll lead you out… please don't look…"

He couldn't stop himself. Immediately, his eyes opened. He cried out in anguish, and Christine ran to him.

He leaned on her for support as he surveyed the damage. The mob had destroyed everything, down to the smallest scrap of music.

The organ was smashed, the cases of instruments were shattered, and their contents strewn around and broken. All of the sheet music he had written had been burned, and there were scorch marks on the walls from where the mob had apparently attempted to burn the room down.

They didn't bother checking through the other rooms of the house. It was bad enough having to leave through the ones they did.

Every piece of art was completely destroyed. Nothing had been spared.

Erik tried not to look as he walked by, but he couldn't help but hope that something, _something_, had survived.

But nothing had.

Finally, they reached the lake. Christine wanted to go back to her dressing room. The boat, which Erik had hid, was surprisingly still intact. It was the only thing that made it.

Erik's turned for one last look at the place that had been his home for so many years. It was cold and empty, and the doors swayed softly on the hinges, some slightly crooked. Most of the windows were broken, and in one of the higher rooms, someone had managed to set at least one of the rooms on fire.

Erik turned away, trying to ignore the pain. That was his old life, he had to let it go…if not for his sake, then at least for Christine's.

Christine looked up at him, and then back at the house. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks. "I'm sorry Erik…I'm really, really sorry."

Erik shook his head. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about."

* * *

(A/N: Okay, I'm sorry this chapter was short, but it was too depressing to be long. I couldn't stand writing it. It took me two hours for the first two pages, and another whole hour for the last half-page. Yeah. It was bad… Anyway, please R+R to make me feel better! Lol, please? ((begs.)) 


	39. A New Life

(A/N: ((cries)) This is the Last Chapter! Well, besides the epilogue. I will acknowledge anyone who ever read my story and reviewed at the end. Right now, I would like to specially thank MadameAngel and Ravenmyst, two new readers who decided to flood my inbox this morning by reviewing nearly every chapter of this story. 40 reviews between the two of you! And that _doesn't_ include the 20 I read last night!)

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: A New Life**

Christine dashed into her dressing room while Erik waited nervously for her behind the mirror. She had to hurry, or else they would be discovered.

Christine knew she couldn't take everything, so she grabbed the things that meant the most to her—a broken picture of her father, Erik's notes to her, a letter her father had written to her when she was young, and, of course, the rose pendent that Erik had given her. She carefully placed them all into a small jewelry box, then grabbed a quill and parchment and wrote a quick note to Meg.

_Meg,_

_I won't be at the Opera Populaire anymore, but know that we'll meet again. I am happy, so dismiss any rumors you might hear. I'll write._

_-Christine_

That was all she had time for, so she folded the note and set it on her bed. Then she ran back to the mirror. She could hear voices in the hallway and, though she didn't think that they were even looking for her, she didn't want to take any chances.

Erik led her down through the passageways for what seemed like an eternity. She grew tired, but tried not to show it. Erik had enough on his mind, and she didn't want to burden him with her problems.

He seemed to notice anyway, for he turned to her and said, "Don't worry, we're almost there."

Christine nodded, and with renewed strength followed him out through the trapdoor and into the sunlight.

Erik winced at the brightness, which he wasn't used to.

"Where are we going to go?" Christine suddenly asked, realizing that she hadn't thought passed getting out of the Opera House. Fortunately, Erik had.

"Madame Giry rented a cottage for us until we could find a suitable home. It's pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so we won't have to worry about being recognized."

Erik had ordered a carriage, which they both climbed into, and shut the door behind them.

As it pulled away, Christine watched the Opera House until it was out of sight. Maybe she had gone through hard times in there, but it was the closest thing to a home that she had ever had.

"Will we ever go back?" she asked quietly, "I think I'll miss it."

"If you would like to," Erik answered, "we can go and watch an opera every now and then."

Christine grinned and nodded. "I'd like that very much."

A smile began to form itself on Erik's lips, "We can even order Box Five…"

"And maybe you can remind them that they never gave you your salary." Christine joked.

Erik's smile grew, but he decided not to tell her about the money in his pocket.

Finally, the carriage reached the edge of a small glen, and the two got out. Erik tipped the driver for his silence, and turned to Christine.

"We'll have to walk from here." He told her, "But if you're too tired, I can carry you."

"No, I'm alright."

He was about to protest, but she ran out ahead of him.

"Come on, Erik, can't you even keep up with _me_!" She teased, and he ran off after her.

Christine screamed in mock fright and ran off into the small forest, even though she had no idea where the cottage was in it.

When she didn't hear Erik behind her, she got confused. Soon, however, she reached the cottage, and saw that he was already there, waiting for her.

She turned and looked behind her, then turned back to him. "How…How did you…" she stammered.

He laughed. "Haven't you learned yet, my dear, never to challenge the Opera Ghost?"

Christine glared jokingly at him, then ran up the steps into his arms.

After a moment, she pulled back and said, "Now let's see the house."

The cottage was a little bit small, with ivy growing up the sides and roses in the garden. It was made of sturdy gray stone, and had little, round windows.

Erik watched nervously as she examined it. "It's only for a short amount of time," he explained, "So it's not perfect, but—"

Christine turned and kissed him softly on the lips. "It's beautiful."

He smiled again. "It is a little bit small, though."

Christine grinned mischievously at him. "All the better—it means you can never be too far away from me." She paused, then said vaguely, "I wonder if there's only one bedroom…"

She smirked at the look on his face, then darted off into the house before he could say anything.

xxxxx

Their stay at the cottage was happy, if short. The problem was, the cottage was just too small for a growing family, and they began looking for a new house the minute Christine announced that she was with child.

Erik grew worried after a while that they wouldn't find one. They couldn't be too near to the city, or Christine would be recognized. It was much too early to return there safely.

So they searched, and searched some more. When Christine wasn't looking, she was writing letters to Meg. Meg wanted to come visit, but Madame Giry had told her it would be too dangerous. The ballet girl had retorted that eventually she _would_ visit, and she would wear the little pink dress that her mother hated.

As a result, Madame Giry tore apart Meg's room in search of it, but her search proved fruitless.

When Christine wrote asking the ballet girl where she had hid the dress, Meg responded smugly, _"It actually isn't mine. It was hers, when she was little. She wore it once for a party, and then apparently forgot about it. I returned it to her closet, where I found it."_

When Christine read that, she laughed so hard that she fell out of the chair she had been sitting in. Upon hearing the crash, Erik burst into the room to find Christine on the floor in fits of giggles. He watched her amusedly for a moment, then told her to get up before she hurt the baby.

xxxxx

A few days later, Christine informed Erik that she had found a house. Erik was relieved, but when he asked her about it, she wouldn't answer.

Her only response was, "You'll like it, don't worry."

When he tried to press her further, she laughed and waved him away. "It's a surprise."

He sighed and gave up.

Christine used all of the money she had saved from her entire time at the Opera House (which Meg had sent to her) to purchase it. Even then, though she didn't know it, she didn't have enough. Erik added some money when she wasn't looking.

He was a little bit nervous about buying a house that he had never even seen before, but he gave Christine the benefit of the doubt. He had to trust her.

In the end, he was glad he did.

Erik had stopped wearing his mask after a while, when Christine protested. He was still uneasy about going out in public, but he was progressively getting better.

Finally he shoved it in the bottom drawer of the dresser in the cottage, and never wore it again. After a while, he even forgot about it.

A year after they moved out of the cottage, a small old lady moved in. You can just imagine the curious look on her face when, as unpacking her clothing, she uncovered a rather intriguing object in her bottom dresser drawer—A white mask.

**FIN.**

(A/N: That was the last chapter. ((cries)) The epilogue will be up tonight as well. It is when they go to their new house. Thank you everyone for reading, and please stick around for the epilogue. Though, technically, you could stop here, if you wanted to. My new story, The Crimson Rose, will also be up tonight, and I'd appreciate it if you kept an eye out for it. Thank you for all of your support.)


	40. Epilogue

(A/N: Most of the Author's Note will be at the end. I want to thank each and every one of you, and it will take a while to write down all of the names. )

* * *

**Epilogue**

The carriage pulled into a long driveway. The new house was in a secluded part of the city, surrounded by trees like their last home was.

Erik was nervous, though he couldn't figure out why. He had a sneaking suspicion that Christine was up to something. She had a little quirky smile on her face that grew as the carriage stopped.

They got out, and Erik finally got his first look at their new home.

It was pretty, but not very impressive. It looked as though it had been empty for quite a while. It gave the impression that once it had been very beautiful—there was empty soil in the front where it looked as though an elaborate garden had been, and the walls gleamed underneath of the grit and dirt on them.

Christine came up and stood beside him. "It needs a little fixing up." She admitted, "But that wasn't why I picked it."

Erik nodded, and waited for her to explain.

She didn't, right away.

Instead, she opened the gate and walked down the pathway, smiling up at the house. "There is one master bedroom, and then a few other spare rooms. I figured we might need them, just in case." She turned and grinned at him, and he smiled back.

"But that still isn't what made me like it." She continued.

Erik followed her up the steps, and inside.

The rooms weren't quite empty. Whoever had lived here before left a lot of their furniture. Erik found himself staring at a few odd pieces…

_Was that an alter?_

"Christine—"

"Did you know, Erik, that this house was once a small community church?"

Erik frowned curiously at her. "No… I didn't."

Christine nodded almost absent-mindedly. "They renovated it into a house when a bigger church was made nearby. It's really pretty, don't you think? When it's cleaned up, it will look really nice. I think the last person who owned it turned the service room into the living room."

"It wasn't a very big church." Was Erik's only comment. He was confused at Christine's choice of a house. Though he really did like it, it was rather…strange.

Christine grinned at him, seeing his confusion in his eyes. She still eluded it, though. "No, it wasn't."

She took his hand and led him through the house, showing him all of the bedrooms and spare rooms. Erik had to agree that he did like it. It had a beautiful view, and very nice furnishings. Still, though, many of the other houses they had seen also had them. He couldn't figure out why she had picked this one in particular, especially since it had once been a church—not that he had anything against that…

"Christine," he said at last, when the finished touring the place, "I still don't think I understand why you picked this house in particular."

She smiled secretively. "There's still one last room…"

They were standing before the double doors to the service room that had been turned into a living room.

Erik gave her another odd look.

Christine met his gaze evenly, and then pushed the doors open.

Erik walked inside, and his breath caught in his throat.

For, on the opposite wall on the far side of the room, there was an organ.

Erik froze for a moment, and then turned to look at Christine, who was grinning from ear to ear now.

"Go on," she urged him, "Try it out."

Erik didn't need to be told twice. He hurried across the room with Christine at his heels.

He slid into place at the bench, and ran his fingers gently over the keys. "I haven't played since we left the Opera House." he said in sudden realization.

Christine nodded. "I know." She whispered.

Erik took a deep breath, placed his fingers into position, and began to play.

A glorious, sweet sound filled the room, vibrating from every timber.

Erik closed his eyes and let the music fill him, tears of joy coming to his eyes. He hadn't realized until now how much he missed his music.

Christine watched him play, heart pounding blissfully. He looked so happy now, and she was glad that she had picked this house. She knew he would like it.

When Erik finished playing, he dropped his hands, trembling slightly. After a moment, he looked back up at Christine.

"Thank you…" he whispered. "Thank you so much…"

Christine just smiled at him.

The two settled down there, and eventually they got married. Christine had her baby, and it was a girl. She named it Meg, after her best friend. Meg herself came to visit soon afterward, the moment that her mother announced that she could.

Christine had two more children. The second one was also a girl, but the third was a young boy. Erik insisted that he was called Christophe, and Christine consented. Even though he looked into it, it was a while before Erik ever found out what had happened to the five-year-old boy, Chaney.

But that is another story for another time. This one, A White Mask, has finally reached its end.

* * *

(A/N: Thank you everyone, for reading. I know that the epilogue was short, but epilogues typically are. I wrote as much as I thought should be there. I would now like to thank all of you for reading, and thank anyone who ever reviewed.

Especially kiss-of-cuteness, my very first reviewer, and to all of you who stuck with me to the end! You gave me the support I needed to continue writing, and I wish I could thank each and every one of you individually for different reasons. However, that would take up a lot of time that I don't have, so instead I will just list your names here. If you EVER reviewed before I finished, then I guarantee your name is on here. Hopefully spelled correctly…

A BIG HUGE thanks to:

Moonlightrosegoddess, RoseWithABlackRibbon, whatanoddgirl, kiss-of-cuteness, draegon-fire, ladystrider77, Dragon-miko, Mel, NorthAngel27, Littlecherub5, MOey, Aislin of the Shadows, Allie, Lauren, Dalamar Nightson, Dal Muln, possumgurl, hermia, jlauren1224, Graymoon74, Evil's Muse, queenofny, dueformiracle, sao, MurphPolo13, Brooke Kenobi, Lady Varissa, AleanShadow, Farsi, Jessica, ENTR'ACTE, Ravenmyst, MadameAngel, rio, bella39blue, fell4adeadguy, T'Res, Grace, Emily, annecordelia, AshleytheStrange, phtmangl1013, Gemxk, LifesVictory, phantombassonist, LadyWillow, Amber Stag, tactics, My Phantom Heart, nobody's little princess, littlelotte, bundles-o'-joy, The Real Christine Daae, Phoenixthemenace, reddancer, KButler, Bara Zeco, Avelera, shoradragon7, Blue Eyes At Night, POTO fan, phantomflutist, Mystery Guest, Jenn, Maaiker, The Dark One Reborn, pandagal, Han Futsu; Anti Normal, erik'sangel527, Angelic Lawyer, Noemy009, Kaya DC Pandora, SummerSong, Senses Fail, Jackalope Huntress, Softiful, LoneGunGirl88, Rosakara, ButterflyofLothlorien, Ceez, Phantomraver, The Cure, rykfiction, The Shrew, The Huntress, Hermia LaFaye, Librarian of the Deep, MJ-Skywalker, celtic-lyre, All Apologies, CrisPgirl, RAB, Immokk, Nightwish-sama, Lisa, DocOcksGirl31, CharmedLeoLvr, smgirl, Dreaming One, Becca, Padfootz-luvr, Pervy Elf Fancier, corrupted-innocent, phantoms lover, andiavas, Lady Tarja, phantomintheshadows, unknown, aries-chica56, MegChristine, Lady of Proserpine (or Hillary, lol), Sweet-Intoxication, CapnJacksBonnieLass, Belle Morte, Lusiki-Thanatos, IChooseTheScorpion, HPOTOV, Kire-evoli, Starr-Rider, Hannah Abby, Lesalanna, sharaku, cdog, LittleLotte05, Elenion-Ancalima, Phantomette, swiz, neo-lover72, mary, Amerial, Kessie, Red Leader, Reading Redhead, Hikaze Chimizu, xxvv, PrincessSaraSolo, Eatdrums, loveroftrapdoors, tiger, vixen519, DarkinsidetheLight, Darth Gilthoron, faerluthio, Phantom's Fallen Angel, Orelinde Sirfalas, Lemony Apple, Reccovende, Liz, Sugarcult Babe, Lackaz, GoddessofMusic, dancerofpointe, bulma-caz, moonjava, galebalesh, Vix17, Wookat, twinlady, automated, Little Atemu, Carolinus Took, No One Mourns the Wicked, Mill, Goddess of the Neon Rose, Kat, Sat-Isis/Suten Net, the polia, BlueSparx, Silver-Eyes, Pannero, Marie, Color Me In, Senna Wales, Erik'sTrueAngel, AingealFire, Aristophanes, SixSixSix, kissme, Passing Stranger, KensDragonet, dragons1, Sapphire Starlet, Miranda, ZeonChar, Tiniwiel, Johanna Gen, whispers of the night, SperryDee, OboetaOn, Phantom of the Past, malfoygranger4eva, starnat, Ara, Goddess of the broken, crazzymonkey, Sango-2099, IloveSnuffles805, EvilFairy27, AngelsExist, synaesthesia, Lily4eva, babymene17, ChristyWannabe, Angie38, Terra Rose, Elanor-Ainu, MusikPhan, dingue, Lioness-Rampant, Aisling-Siobhan, Kat, Beneathmyskin, Kontoki OperaGhost, PiccoloFrivolous, Danielle, Linhdog, Corby, Official Fan, Monroe-mary, LadyRedDeath, The Copper Arabian, gecko girl, RietroFan42, Rokimbo, ChildoftheWilderness, LoverofBalto, LiTTle LoTTe1991, Chesire Kit, angelofmusic45, Suki-Aiko Hirashima, Seaside Rose, Countess Alana, Foreveriseternallymine, Doomed Delight, Faust, oceansun, Songwind, Elianu, Maeve of the Nile, Laurz, SaraRainey, akutenshi666, Erik is a sex god, Kaya DC Pandora, deathlesscaress, jessiejoe826, DarkSarcasm, Ermine aka Tree, Fox Xanatos, AmberPhantom, Midnight Ransom, BelleEverwood, Emma, MegHarts, NiamhakaLadyHex, Rooklyn, eridani, Moi, Lizzie Black, SiriusFan9, La Foame, iceangelmkx, Brittany, Legolas-Obsessionist, Shannon, Mel, Cap'n of the Deep, Jessica, SS, lilinnnocentvivi, Songe, Chance, Angel, hiei1317, stine,

And… erm… is there anyone else? Anyone I might have forgotten? Oh, wait, I think I did… some k name… was it… kionra? no, but she used to spell it that way… OH! Right, KIANRA! Lol, sorry everyone, she's my best friend, thought I should explain. I bet you she went through that entire list of names, too

Anyway, thank you all for reading!

My new story, The Crimson Rose, (WHICH IS NOT A SEQUEL) will be up tomorrow morning.

I just can't do anything else tonight. I'm spent.

THANK YOU EVERYONE! GOODBYE!

…Hilary…


End file.
